• 


SAND  'N'   BUSHES 


OTHER  BOOKS 
BY  MISS  POOL 

o* 

A  GOLDEN  SORROW 

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PUBLISHED  BY 

HERBERT  S.  STONE  &  CO. 
CHICAGO    &    NEW     YORK 


SAND  'N'  BUSHES 


MARIA  LOUISE  POOL 


HERBERT  S.  STONE  fir  COMPANY 

CHICAGO   &  NEW  YORK 

MDCCCXCIX 


COPYRIGHT     1899,    BY 
HERBERT    S.    STONE    &    CO 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.  BUYING  THE  HORSES  i 

II.  A  CAT  JOINS  THE  PARTY     .        .  29 

III.  THE  GIRL  WITH  A  SPINE         .        .  57 

IV.  THE   COMPACT   OF  THE  WATERING 

TROUGH      .        .        .        .        .  83 

V.  AMABEL  AS  A  REFORMER    .        .  113 

VI.  IN  THE  LANE 143 

VII.  SHE  THAT  WAS  EUNICE  CALKINS  173 

VIII.  AT  TWENTY  DOLLARS  A  TON  .        .  199 

IX.  PROVINCETOWN  AND  THE  GONZAGAS  229 

X.  RATHER  EXCITING  ....  257 

XI.  THE  HARBOR       ....  283 

XII.  ON  THE  DUNES        ....  311 

XIII.  FAREWELL,  PROVINCETOWN        .  343 


2200506 


Sand  'n'  Bushes 

oj  ''i  ''& 

I 

BUYING    THE    HORSES 

I  tried  to  represent  to  Amabel  that  it 
was  just  like  her  to  undertake  a  horse 
back  excursion  when  everybody  else 
was  on  wheels,  and  horseback  riding 
was  all  out  of  fashion.  Was  not  there 
an  article  in  each  Sunday  paper  headed 
"The  Extinction  of  the  Horse,"  and 
weren't  the  Western  farmers  feeding 
colts  to  their  pigs  because  colts  were 
cheaper  even  than  corn? 

"They  give  the  colts  to  the  pigs 
because  they  want  the  corn  to  burn, ' ' 
interrupted  a  rough  voice  which  be- 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

longed  to  Amabel's  brother.  Amabel's 
brother  is  a  boy  over  whose  head  four 
teen  summers  have  passed,  and  who 
thinks  he  knows  everything;  he  is  also 
anxious  to  impart  what  he  knows  to 
every  one,  particularly  to  every  femi 
nine  human  being.  He  apparently  be 
lieves  that  all  feminine  human  beings 
are  created  for  the  mere  purpose  of 
allowing  themselves  to  be  instructed  by 
men  and  boys. 

Truth  forces  me  to  state  that  Albert 
does  know  a  good  many  things,  but  as 
they  are  generally  things  that  I  don't 
care  anything  about  knowing  myself, 
sometimes  the  boy  is  a  weariness. 
Truth  bids  me  also  acknowledge  that 
there  are  people  who  hate  to  be  in 
structed  ;  I  am  afraid  that  I  am  one  of 
those  people.  I  can  even  force  myself 
to  read  a  very  dull  novel  because  it 
isn't  true,  and  I  can't  learn  anything 
from  it;  whereas,  if  I  should  suddenly 
be  made  to  believe  that  the  story  was  a 
relation  of  facts,  it  would  be  impossible 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

for  me  to  read  another  word  of  it.  I 
often  wonder  if  any  one  else  has 
such  an  undisciplined,  perverse  mind. 
From  the  profusion  of  dull  novels  I 
should  almost  think  I  was  not  the  sole 
possessor  of  this  kind  of  mental  powers. 

When  I  reasoned  with  Amabel  as  to 
the  untimeliness  of  her  choice  of  loco 
motion,  she  made  answer  that  she 
wasn't  ruled  by  fashion,  and  that  now 
is  exactly  the  time  to  buy  horses,  when 
nobody  wanted  them,  and  they  were 
about  to  become  extinct.  They  were 
cheap. 

"Thirty-six  and  a  half  per  cent 
cheaper  than  they  were  nineteen 
months  ago,"  said  Albert.  "They  are 
going-  down  at  a  ratio  of ' ' 

"Amabel,"  said  I,  looking  across 
Albert  to  his  sister,  "will  you  kindly 
prevent  that  boy  from  mentioning 
ratios  in  my  presence?  Ratios  are 
devilish." 

Albert  gave  a  slight  whoop,  put  two 
hands  on  the  back  of  a  chair  and 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

jumped  over  it,  as  if  he  and  the  chair 
were  playing  leapfrog,  and  it  was  his 
turn  to  leap.  It  was  this  indulgence  in 
whoopings  and  jumpings  that  made 
Albert,  though  an  immature  prig,  still 
a  boy,  and  that  had  many  times  pre 
vented  me  from  taking  his  life  in  return 
for  well-meant  but  unwished-for  offer 
ings  of  facts.  Amabel  always  main 
tained  that  her  kinsman  would  outgrow 
this  superabundant  knowledge  and  at 
last  come  to  a  realization  that  people 
were  not  living  in  this  world  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  receiving  statements  of 
averages  and  so  forth  from  him.  She 
was  in  the  habit  of  telling  him  that  it 
would  be  an  unmitigated  blessing  when 
he  should  be  old  enough  to  fall  in  love 
with  a  girl  and  to  have  that  girl  suit 
him.  To  this  and  many  other  remarks 
Albert  was  in  the  habit  of  responding: 

"So's  a  hen." 

When  all  other  retorts  failed  this 
phrase  always  appeared  perfectly  satis 
fying  to  the  owner  of  it.  So  satisfying, 
4 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

indeed,  that  I  used  to  wish  that  I  was 
the  possessor  of  some  such  soul-filling 
sentence  to  be  used  on  any  occasion. 

Albert  had  now  sat  down  upon  the 
chair  over  which  he  had  just  jumped. 
He  sat  astride  and  rested  his  chin  on 
the  top  of  the  back.  Thus  brought 
into  prominence,  his  eyes  looked 
sharper  than  ever,  and  his  freckles 
seemed  actually  to  form  a  sort  of  bas- 
relief  across  his  nose,  they  showed  so 
plainly. 

"You  c'n  talk  all  you're  a  mind  to, 
Am,"  he  said,  "but  you'll  have  to  take 
it  out  in  talking,  I  guess.  Pa  won't 
let  you  have  the  horse ;  he  ain't  such  a 
fool  as  that.  And  side  saddles  ruin 
the  back — not  your  back,  you  know. 
I  read  yesterday  in  the  animal  ency 
clopaedia  that  a  man  could  better  ride 
any  kind  of  an  animal  in  the  proportion 
of " 

"Albert,  won't  you  please  shut  up? 
Besides,  I  don't  want  pa's  horse." 

This  from  Amabel. 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Oh,  don't  you?  Whose  do  you  in 
tend  to  have,  then?  If  I  had  one  I'd 
shoot  it  rather  than  have  a  woman 
ransacking  round  with  it.  A  woman 
spoils  anything  she  touches. ' ' 

There  was  no  response  to  this 
assertion.  I  took  up  a  paper  and  began 
to  read.  Since  this  youth  was  not  my 
brother  I  did  not  feel  privileged  to 
take  hold  of  his  jacket  collar  and  assist 
him  to  the  door.  And  I  had  a  sneak 
ing,  remonstrant  sort  of  a  kindness  for 
him,  for  which  I  could  not  account. 
Amabel  was  counting  stitches  in  some 
crochet  work,  or  she  appeared  to  be 
thus  engaged. 

In  a  moment  Albert  took  from  one 
of  his  pockets  a  crossgun  about  as 
long  as  his  middle  finger.  He  carefully 
adjusted  the  string  at  the  notch  pro 
vided  for  it  near  the  trigger ;  then  he 
pulled  out  from  another  pocket  a  few 
dried  peas.  He  put  one  dried  pea  in 
front  of  the  trigger  and  extended  the 
weapon  steadily  toward  his  sister. 
6 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"I  say,  Am,"  he  cried,  ''throw  up 
your  hands,  or  you're  right  eye's  a 
goner. ' ' 

Amabel  started,  involuntarily 
dropped  her  work  and  raised  both 
hands  over  her  head. 

"Now  tell  me  where  you  mean  to  get 
your  horses,"  commanded  Albert. 

Amabel  resumed  her  former  position. 

"You  horrid  little  boy,  you!"  she 
cried. 

"Where  do  you  mean  to  get  your 
horses?"  reiterated  the  youth. 

He  snapped  his  dried  pea  at  a  ven 
ture,  and  it  hit  the  cat  which  sat  in  the 
window. 

"I  mean  to  get  them  at  Izzard's 
auction  rooms,"  was  the  answer. 

"Gee!  That's  rich!  You'll  be 
cheated  to  death.  I'll  go  with  you  and 
protect  you. ' ' 

"You  shan't!" 

"I  shall!     Does  pa  know?" 

"No;  he  doesn't.     I'm  of  age." 

"Yes,  a  good  while  since,"  said  this 
7 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

heartless  being.  "I  shall  go  with 
you,"  he  reiterated. 

Then,  after  a  moment  of  thought, 
during  which  he  was  snapping  the 
trigger  of  his  crossgun,  he  announced : 

"I'll  buy  one  myself;  they're  so 
'tarnal  cheap  I  can  do  it.  I've  got 
money  enough.  What  day  you  going?" 

"No  matter,"  from  Amabel. 

"Pooh!  You  needn't  think  I  shan't 
find  out.  I  would  not  miss  it  for  ten 
cents." 

I  ventured  to  say  that  the  proportion 
of  boys  who  missed  things  they  did  not 
mean  to  miss  was  very  great ;  whereat 
Albert  whistled  on  a  high  key  and  left 
the  room. 

It  is  perhaps  illustrative  of  Albert's 
capabilities  to  state  that  he  did  find 
out,  though  until  we  had  started  for 
Boston  on  the  selected  day  we  believed 
that  we  had  eluded  him. 

Boston  is  twenty  miles  away  by  steam 
cars  and  twenty-two  by  bicycle.  We 
went  by  steam  cars.  We  had  passed 
8 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

two  stations;  and  I  had  entirely  for 
gotten  that  Amabel  had  a  brother, 
when  my  attention  was  drawn  to  the 
back  of  the  person  who  was  winding  up 
the  brakes  for  the  third  stop. 

That  was  surely  Albert's  back, 
and  the  brakeman  was  allowing  him 
to  take  a  hand.  I  don't  know  why 
people  let  Albert  do  anything  he 
wants  to  do.  I  suppose  a  ship's 
captain  would  allow  that  boy  to  navi 
gate  the  ship. 

The  brake  handle  whizzed  round  and 
then  stopped.  Albert,  with  one  hand 
on  the  rail,  leaned  his  whole  body  out 
into  space,  as  he  looked  forward  along 
the  curving  line.  It  was  at  this  time 
that  Amabel  saw  him.  She  jumped, 
but  she  restrained  herself. 

The  next  moment  the  train  began  to 
slow  up,  and  then  Albert  put  his  head 
in  at  the  door  and  yelled : 

"Brain-tree!      Brain-tree!       Change 
for    the    South     Shore!       This    train 
express  to  Borston!" 
9 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Then  he  saw  us  and  he  grinned.  He 
came  forward  into  the  car.  The  train 
presently  lurched  forward.  Albert 
disdained  to  steady  himself  by  putting 
a  hand  on  anything.  His  feet  were 
firmly  planted  very  wide  apart.  He 
was  standing  by  our  seat  and  gazing 
through  the  window,  an  expression  of 
great  enjoyment  on  his  face.  There 
fore  I  turned  my  head  and  looked  in 
the  same  direction. 

I  saw  a  fat  man  with  a  gripsack  in 
his  hand  running  down  the  road,  try 
ing  to  catch  the  last  car,  which  was 
now  sliding  along  by  the  station. 
When  the  fat  man  was  very  near  he 
stubbed  his  toe  and  fell  down  sprawl 
ing.  The  train  went  heartlessly  on. 
Albert  snickered  in  much  enjoyment. 
As  for  me,  I  would  not  have  smiled 
before  that  boy  for  any  consideration 
under  such  circumstances. 

"Why,  Albert,"  exclaimed  his  sister, 
"I  thought  you  were  at  school." 

"Hullo,  sis,"  was  the  response.      "I 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

didn't  think  you  were  at  school.  I'm 
playing  hookey.  Where  you  going?" 

"To  Boston." 

"So'm  I.  I'm  going  to  Izzard's  to 
buy  a  horse." 

Amabel  sat  back  in  her  seat  with  a 
desperate  calmness  in  her  manner. 

"That's  just  like  you!"  she  cried. 

"No,  'tisn't,  either;  I  never  bought 
a  horse  in  my  life. ' ' 

The  boy  did  not  look  at  either  of  us. 
His  eyes  were  roving  all  over  the  car. 
He  was  chewing  gum  assiduously. 

"Let's  make  the  best  of  it,"  I  said 
soothingly  to  Amabel.  '  'Let  the  boy  go. " 

"You'd  better;  'cause  I'm  going, 
anyway." 

Albert  sat  down  on  the  arm  of  our 
seat  and  swung  one  leg. 

Amabel  suddenly  began  to  smile,  her 
smile  immediately  changed  to  a 
laugh,  and  this  laugh  actually  ap 
peared  to  disconcert  her  brother.  He 
grew  red  in  the  face.  He  slid  down 
from  the  arm  of  the  seat  and  muttered 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

that  he  didn't  see  anything  so  blamed 
funny.  Then  he  walked  away,  and  we 
did  not  see  him  even  when  we  reached 
the  station.  As  we  went  up  Kneeland 
Street  we  said  to  each  other  that,  after 
all,  Albert  had  become  "sick  of  it." 

It  here  occurs  to  me  that  perhaps  I 
ought  to  explain  that  both  Amabel  and 
myself  were  old  horsewomen.  We  had 
ridden  more  or  less  ever  since  we  were 
grown  up,  until  within  the  last  year  or 
two,  when  circumstances  had  rendered 
it  impossible  for  us  to  have  horses. 
Now,  however,  affairs  were  slightly 
different  with  us.  And  we  thought 
we  knew  horses  well  enough  to  buy 
a  couple.  Not  that  we  knew  them. 
No  one  knows  them.  Is  not  the 
jockey  who  conceives  himself  to  be 
an  "all-round  judge"  often  dreadfully 
deceived? 

And  there  is  quite  a  bewitching 
excitement  in  going  to  a  horse  auction 
with  a  modest  sum  of  money  where 
withal  to  buy  a  modest  steed.  A  lot- 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

tery  is  tame  when  compared  with  this 
experience.  In  a  lottery  you  know, 
once  and  for  all,  whether  you  have 
drawn  a  prize  or  a  blank.  In  buying  a 
horse  you  can  never  be  quite  certain 
that  your  blank  won't  sometime  turn 
out  a  prize.  Are  we  not  often  reading 
how  some  poor  old  plug  has  suddenly 
become  a  fast  trotter?  To  those  who 
have  bought  horses,  and  bought  poor 
ones,  I  need  not  dwell  upon  the  fact 
that  the  hope  that  some  wonderful 
transformation  will  sometime  be  ef 
fected  is  a  hope  that  takes  a  great  deal 
of  killing. 

But  you  don't  think  of  anything  like 
this  when  you  draw  near  to  the  auction 
mart.  There  is  a  smell  of  stables, 
extending  as  far  as  the  sidewalk,  but  it 
is  not  a  strong  odor,  and  is  far  from 
being  disagreeable,  it  is  so  suggestive 
of  the  possibility  of  a  lucky  find  in 
horseflesh.  I  don't  believe  that  any 
one  ever  bought  a  horse  without  a 
secret  feeling,  almost  a  conviction,  that 
13 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

the  seller  of  it  did  not  know  how  very 
good  it  was,  but  you,  as  the  buyer, 
would  presently  discover.  Years  of 
experience  will  not  eradicate  this 
weakness.  Perhaps  it  is  not  a  weak 
ness;  perhaps  it  is  the  sustaining 
strength  of  the  horse  purchaser,  the 
thing  that  buoys  him  up  through 
experience  after  experience.  It  lasts 
as  long  as  his  money  lasts,  and  that  is 
long  enough  to  serve  the  purposes  of 
the  dealer. 

There  was  an  odor  of  tan  and  saw 
dust,  and  tobacco  smoke  also,  all  grow 
ing  stronger  as  we  came  to  the  wide 
entrance,  and  I  must  add  that  the 
pools  of  dark  yellow  spittle  grew  not 
only  more  frequent,  but  larger.  They 
were  not  so  large,  however,  but  that 
we  could  step  over  them;  and  I  am 
not  speaking  of  them  in  any  complain 
ing  spirit,  only  in  a  generally  descrip 
tive  manner. 

There  were  some  men  strolling  about 
in  a  semi-dark  interior;  and  we  heard 
14 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

from  somewhere  an  occasional  stamp 
ing  and  whinnying. 

We  stood  about  in  a  studiously 
elegant  and  aimless  manner,  waiting. 
We  had  never  been  to  just  this  kind  of 
a  place  before,  but  we  knew  that  it 
was  strictly  respectable;  that  the  pro 
prietors  were  noted  for  their  fair  deal 
ing;  and  we  had  heard  that  women 
came  here.  The  slight  indefiniteness 
we  felt  as  to  the  truth  of  the  latter 
statement  lent  a  pleasurable  uncer 
tainty  to  an  already  uncertain  under 
taking. 

Very  soon  a  man  came  from  far  off 
in  the  dusk.  We  saw  him  coming  a 
long  time,  and  his  form  gradually 
detached  itself  from  the  gloom,  grew 
into  a  large  figure,  then  to  a  large 
figure  with  a  tall  silk  hat  on  its  head, 
and  a  thick  yellow  chain  drawn  across 
in  a  tight  manner  from  one  white 
waistcoat  pocket  to  the  other.  A  few 
yards  further  toward  us  and  we  saw  a 
broad  face  with  a  yellow  mustache  and 
15 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

pendulous  under  lip,  which  left  in  con 
stant,  though  limited  view,  the  tops  of 
some  dark  under  teeth. 

In  the  next  moment  this  man  took  off 
his  hat;  in  the  next  he  had  come  to 
Amabel's  side  and  had  said:  "Good- 
morning,  ladies.  What  can  I  do  for 
you?" 

I  am  almost  ashamed  to  acknowledge 
that  I  could  be  prepossessed  by  a  man 
with  a  hanging  under  lip  and  the 
puffy  face  that  belonged  to  this  man, 
but  there  was  something  unmistakably 
like  a  horse  dealer  about  him,  and  I 
am  irresistibly  drawn  toward  a  horse 
dealer.  There  is  a  good  nature,  a 
charming  but  loosely  fitting  benevo 
lence,  an  ease  of  manner  that  is  not  at 
all  the  ease  of  manner  of  the  social 
world,  and  I  am  so  depraved  that  I  like 
it — so  depraved  that  I  even  confess  to 
liking  it,  which,  Amabel  says,  is  worse 
still. 

My  friend  replied  that  she  came 
about  horses. 

16 


SAND    »N'    BUSHES 

"Oh,  yes;  you  have  some  here  that 
are  to  be  sold  to-day?  You  wish  to 
withdraw  them?  Ladies  mostly  do 
change  their  minds." 

Here  a  broad  smile  which  revealed 
two  serious  gaps  in  the  upper  row  of 
teeth;  a  hasty  twist  of  the  tongue 
about  a  black  lump  of  something,  pre 
sumably  tobacco,  in  the  mouth. 

It  was  somehow  pleasant  that  any 
one  should  think  that  we  had  horses 
here  for  sale.  "No,"  said  Amabel, 
"we  want  to  buy.  We  want  two 
directly,  so  we  came  here.  We're  plan 
ning  to  go  a  horseback  trip. " 

"Oh,  you  want  saddlers,  then?" 

Yes,  it  was  saddlers  we  required. 
"Kind  and  trustworthy,"  explained 
Amabel,  "and  not  too  much  like  sheep, 
either. ' ' 

"Exactly." 

The  man  had  put  on  his  hat,  and  he 

now   had  a    thumb    thrust    into    each 

trousers  pocket.     He  was  gazing  over 

our  heads,  his  eyes  fixed,  as  he  appar- 

17 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

ently,  in  his  mind,  reviewed  all  the 
saddlers  that  had  been  sent  in. 

He  brought  his  gaze  down  to  Ama 
bel's  face  and  remarked  that  he 
thought  they  had  just  the  thing. 

"You  want  all  the  gaits,  I  s'pose?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Amabel,  "we  want 
all  the  gaits  we  can  have,  but  we  must 
have  a  good  gallop. ' ' 

"Exactly." 

Another  gaze  over  our  heads.     Then : 

"P'raps  you'd  like  to  see  some  of  the 
animals ;  then  you  can  decide  on  what 
you'll  care  to  bid  on." 

"Yes,"  with  ill-disguised  eager 
ness,  "we  should  like  to  see  some  of 
them. ' ' 

' '  Step  this  way,  please. ' ' 

So  we  followed  him.  On  the  way 
our  guide  stepped  into  what  appeared 
to  be  a  little  office,  and  he  said  some 
thing  into  a  telephone,  and  then  we 
went  on  until  we  came  to  a  large 
space,  where  there  was  sawdust  on  the 
floor,  and  where  it  was  not  any  too 

18 


SAND    'N*    BUSHES 

light.       But    we   soon    became  accus 
tomed  to  the  dusk. 

"They'll  bring  'em  right  along, ' '  said 
the  man. 

He  walked  a  few  paces  away  and 
spat  in  a  somewhat  surreptitious 
manner.  He  returned  to  us,  just  as 
the  subdued  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  was 
heard,  and  then  a  man  in  his  shirt 
sleeves  came  running  into  sight.  He 
was  between  two  horses,  with  a  hand 
on  the  halter  of  each.  They  all  three 
came  up  in  good  style,  the  animals 
cantering  gently. 

Amabel  and  I  kept  silence  and 
gazed.  I  always  look  to  see  how  a 
horse  stands;  if  he  puts  all  four  feet 
firmly  down  and  if  his  knees  bend  out 
any. 

What  is  it  that  makes  a  horse  have 
such  a  fine  appearance  in  a  sale  stable? 

These  two  were  sorrel  in  color,  but 
one  had  mild  eyes,  the  other,  eyes  with 
the  white  showing,  and  with  pointed, 
uneasy  ears. 

19 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

The  man  stepped  up  and  smoothed 
the  neck  of  the  mild  one. 

"These  both  belonged  to  one  gentle 
man,"  he  began.  "He  had  them  for 
his  daughters  to  ride,  but  the  family's 
goin'  to  Europe,  and  they're  selling 
their  livestock.  Sold  for  no  fault — 
lope  and  single  step — sound  and  kind. 
That  is,  practically  sound.  I  ain't 
tryin'  to  deceive.  It  don't  pay  us  to 
deceive.  These'll  probably  go  cheap — 
forced  sale.  They've  been  living 
together,  so  I  thought  maybe  you'd  like 
to  take  them.  Here,  you" — looking 
about  him — "somebody  get  on  to  these 
horses  and  show  their  paces.  Where's 
Jim?"  walking  away  a  few  paces  and 
shouting,  "Jim!" 

Presently,  from  far  off,  and  from 
greater  darkness,  a  boy  emerged. 
Even  at  that  distance  he  did  not  seem 
entirely  unfamiliar.  It  was  Albert, 
who  now  came  along  as  if  he  had 
always  lived  in  Izzard's  stables.  He 
nodded  shortly  at  us,  apparently  not 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

being  quite  sure  that  he  had  ever  met 
us  before.  He  was  chewing  a  straw; 
his  cap  was  on  one  side  of  his  head. 

"I'll  try  a  turn  on  one  of  "em,"  he 
remarked. 

"Eh?"  from  our  guide,  "and  who  in 
the — I  mean,  who  are  you?" 

"Name's  Waldo.  I'm  looking  for  a 
saddler.  That  girl  in  the  biggest  hat's 
my  sister" — without  giving  a  glance  to 
either  of  us. 

Albert  went  up  to  the  horse  with  the 
white  in  its  eyes.  He  took  a  good  grip 
on  the  mane,  and — but  I  don't  know 
how  boys  do  these  things — he  sprang 
up  on  the  animal's  bare  back. 

Sometimes  I  think  that  boys,  not 
withstanding  some  quite  evident  blem 
ishes  of  taste  and  character  and 
deportment,  are  a  superior  order  of 
beings ;  and  that  they,  and  they  alone, 
ought  to  be  rewarded  when  they  grow 
up  with  the  power  to  vote  as  to  what 
shall  be  done  in  this  great  world. 

"Oh,  Albert!"  cried  Amabel. 
21 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

But  the  boy  did  not  look  at  either  of 
us  now.  His  legs  were  gripping  the 
horse's  sides.  He  reached  out  a  hand 
toward  the  halter. 

"Give  us  a  hold,  will  ye?"  he  cried, 
to  the  man  in  his  shirt  sleeves. 

"No,  I  won't,"  was  the  short 
answer,  "till  I've  got  a  bridle  on  her. 
What  in ' ' 

Here  the  speaker  made  such  an 
effort  to  suppress  the  profanity  that 
came  leaping  to  his  lips  that  he  grew 
purple,  and  glared  at  us  as  being  the 
cause  of  his  apoplectic  symptoms. 

The  person  with  the  watch  chain, 
our  guide,  stepped  forward,  took  the 
halter  rope  of  the  other  horse,  and  held 
it  while  Albert's  mount  was  being  led 
away. 

Presently  the  thud  of  feet  sounded 
again,  this  time  very  quick,  and  Albert 
reappeared  at  a  brisk  canter,  the  saw 
dust  flying  up  behind  him.  He  pulled 
in  in  front  of  us ;  his  sorrel  snorted  and 
kicked  out  a  hind  leg. 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"She's  feeling  her  oats,"  remarked 
our  companion. 

"She's  a  first-rater,"  announced 
Albert.  "I'm  going  to  bid  on  her;  so 
you  needn't  bid,  sis,  and  run  her  up. 
There's  plenty  of  'em  here  good 
enough  for  women.  Whoa!  What's 
she  doing  with  her  hind  foot?  Whoa! 
I  say!" 

"She's  stretching  her  leg  a  bit," 
replied  the  man.  "She's  been  stand 
ing,  so  she's  kinder  frisky.  Hadn't  you 
better  get  down — what  d'you  say  your 
name  was? — By  George!  You'd  better 
get  down  while  you  can!" 

The  ears  of  the  sorrel  mare  were  laid 
flat,  so  that  her  head  had  a  curious 
resemblance  to  the  head  of  a  snake. 
She  threw  up  not  only  one  hind  foot, 
but  both  simultaneously.  '  The  first 
time  she  did  this  Albert  clung  fast;  the 
second  time,  which  was  in  about  the 
space  of  a  flash  of  lightning  after  the 
first,  Albert  went  over  the  mare's  head 
on  to  the  sawdust. 

23 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Amabel  ran  to  him. 

"Quite  frisky,  I  declare!"  said  the 
man  with  the  watch  chain.  He  paid 
no  attention  to  the  boy.  Could  it  be 
because  such  scenes  were  common 
here? 

Albert  scrambled  to  his  feet.  He 
put  his  hand  up  to  his  nose;  he  glared 
over  it  at  his  sister. 

"Now  shut  up!"  he  commanded, 
though  Amabel  had  not  spoken,  "I 
ain't  hurt.  It  don't  hurt  to  fall  like 
that." 

He  removed  his  hand  and  gazed  at  it 
incredulously. 

"Gee!  'Taint  bloody,  is  it?  How 
scart  you  look!  Thunder!  I'm  glad  I 
ain't  a  girl!" 

He  brushed  the  sawdust  from  his 
knees. 

"I  s'pose  you'll  run  home  'n'  tell 
father,"  he  added. 

Then    he   thrust    his   hands    in    his 
pockets  and  took  a  few  steps,  making  a 
visible  and  stiff  attempt  to  strut. 
24 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

He  walked  toward  the  man.  The  sor 
rel  mare  had  cantered  off  out  of  sight. 

"That's  a  first-rate  saddler,"  he  said, 
in  a  hoarse  voice,  "but  I  don't  call  her 
suitable  for  women.  I  shan't  let  you 
buy  her,  sis. ' ' 

"I  don't  want  her,"  said  Amabel, 
shortly. 

The  man  burst  into  a  sudden  laugh, 
which  he  suppressed  as  suddenly;  he 
became  extremely  grave. 

"She's  only  a  bit  gay,"  he  said.  "I 
guess  she's  a  little  too  much  horse  for 
you;  I  know  about  what  you  want. 
Tom,  bring  out  the  gray  and  the  black. 
Put  side  saddles  on  them.  This  gray 
and  black'll  suit,  I'm  pretty  sure" — 
turning  confidentially  to  us.  "You  see, 
ladies,  these  last  two  are  to  be  sold 
for  no  fault ;  been  used  by  two  women 
out  in  the  country ;  owners ' ' 

"Going  to  Europe,  I  suppose,"  sug 
gested  Amabel. 

The  man  hastily  stroked  his  mus 
tache. 

25 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"No,"  he  went  on,  "one  of  'em  has 
broken  her  hip,  and  the  other  won't 
ride  without  her." 

"I'm  sure  I  can  understand  that," 
responded  Amabel,  seriously.  And 
then  to  me,  "If  you  had  broken  your 
hip  I  shouldn't  want  to  be  riding  round 
the  country  just  because  my  hip  was 
sound." 

"Exactly,"  promptly  from  the  man. 

The  gray  and  the  black  came  for 
ward  from  the  half-darkness,  the  man 
in  his  shirt  sleeves  between  them. 

There  were  now  a  number  of  people 
strolling  about,  and  horses  were  being 
led  forward  and  were  having  their 
mouths  opened  and  their  ribs  punched 
by  different  men.  It  was  still  early, 
for  we  had  come  very  early  indeed, 
with  a  purpose. 

I  don't  know  how  Amabel  felt,  but  I 
was  sorry  to  see  those  saddles  on  those 
horses.  I  didn't  want  to  ride  round 
among  those  men  and  perhaps  be  flung 
down  in  front  of  one  of  them.  It  was 
26 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

more  than  a  year  since  I  had  been  in  a 
saddle,  and  who  knew  how  that  woman 
had  broken  her  hip? 

I  communicated  this  suggestive  ques 
tion  to  Amabel,  who  made  answer  that 
there  was  no  doubt  in  her  mind  as  to 
how  those  bones  had  been  broken,  and 
she  added  that  if  I  would  run  away 
now  she  would  follow  me. 

"Now,  ladies,"  said  the  man.  We 
did  not  run  away.  We  advanced  in  a 
nonchalant  manner,  and  Amabel  first 
put  her  foot  in  the  extended  hand,  and 
was  tossed  successfully  into  the  saddle. 
I  boggled  somehow,  but  I  got  seated 
and  took  up  the  bridle  reins.  Like 
clouds  here  and  there  were  groups  of 
men  and  some  horses  visible. 

"They  both  guide  by  the  rein,  you 
know,  ladies." 


II 

A    CAT     JOINS    THE    PARTY 

The  only  thing  I  saw  plainly  at  first, 
after  I  really  knew  that  I  was  in  the 
saddle,  was  Albert  standing  in  front  of 
my  horse's  head.  He  was  in  that 
attitude  so  often  assumed  by  clowns  in 
a  circus,  bent  forward,  with  a  hand  on 
each  knee.  His  mouth  was  puckered, 
and  when  he  caught  my  eye  he  winked. 
This  wink  confused  me,  and  filled  me 
with  a  longing  to  have  a  whip  in  my 
hand  and  send  its  lash  stinging  across 
that  freckled  face. 

"They  both  guide  by  the  rein, 
ladies." 

The  repetition  of  these  words  roused 
me.  I  laid  the  left  rein  gently  on  my 
horse's  neck;  at  the  same  time,  appar 
ently,  Amabel  laid  the  right  rein  on 
29 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

her  horse's  neck.  The  result  was  that 
they  put  their  heads  together  and  one 
of  them  bit  the  other.  The  other  was 
my  steed;  he  resented  the  attack  by 
wheeling  abruptly  about  and  sending  a 
foot  hard  against  the  rear  of  Amabel's 
horse. 

I  was  so  disturbed  by  this  perform 
ance  that  Albert,  always  in  front  of 
me,  seemed  for  the  moment  to  be  a 
dozen  boys,  all  grinning. 

But  I  kept  my  seat ;  and  I  was  glad 
to  be  in  the  saddle  once  more,  even  in 
a  sales-stable  with  the  present  back 
ground. 

I  soon  became  conscious  that  the 
background  was  fast  becoming  the 
foreground.  The  men  who  had  been 
strolling  about  in  the  distance  came 
forward. 

Amabel  leaned  toward  me,  and  whis 
pered  that  we  had  been  idiots. 

"I  should  think,  now  you're  on  'em, 
you'd  try  'em,"  said  Albert. 

It  did  seem  a  wise  suggestion,  and 
30 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

we  acted  upon  it.  Amabel  started  off 
at  a  good  gallop,  and  I  followed  her. 
But  I  did  not  believe  that  these  horses 
had  ever  lived  together.  I  wished 
that  persons  wouldn't  lie  to  me. 

But  I  liked  my  horse.  I  had  a 
notion  that  there  was  a  sympathy  be 
tween  us.  This  was  rather  a  danger 
ous  notion  to  harbor  on  so  slight  an 
acquaintance;  still  I  harbored  it. 

We  went  round  again.  More  men 
gathered  as  witnesses.  I  had  a  moving 
vision  of  light  colored  soft  felt  hats  and 
plaid  trousers.  A  piercing  wonder  as 
to  whether  women  really  did  come  here 
again  darted  through  my  mind. 

This  time  my  horse  did  a  most 
delightful  amble,  and  my  impression 
that  there  was  sympathy  between  us 
deepened. 

I  stopped  in  front  of  the  man.  I 
hope  it  is  understood  when  I  use  that 
phrase  that  I  refer  to  our  guide. 

"That  fellow's  about  the  checker, 
now,  ain't  he?"  he  exclaimed,  genially. 
31 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

I  immediately  restrained  myself  and 
answered  coldly  that  his  gaits  were 
tolerable.  Then  I  slipped  down  from 
my  seat. 

"Ain't  a  better  saddler  in  the 
State,"  was  the  response. 

Here  Amabel  came  tip  and  her  horse 
bit  at  mine. 

"But  they  have  never  lived  to 
gether,"  she  asserted.  And  she  dis 
mounted.  She  looked  at  me  sharply, 
and  I  answered  the  look,  but  I  didn't 
know  what  she  meant.  The  men  in 
soft  hats  and  plaid  trousers  sauntered 
off  into  the  deeper  dusk  again.  I  heard 
one  of  them  laugh,  and  then  another 
chuckle. 

Albert  echoed  this  chuckle  as  if  he 
knew  what  was  the  cause  of  merriment. 
It  was  of  no  use  to  wish  to  kill  him,  for 
it  is  wrong  to  kill  boys ;  if  it  were  not 
wrong  I'm  sure  very  few  of  them 
would  live  to  grow  up.  And  a  person 
doesn't  wish  to  be  hanged  for  taking 
the  lives  of  boys. 

32 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

More  horses  were  brought  out,  all  of 
them  "first-class  A  No.  i  saddlers,"  all 
of  them  to  be  sold  for  no  fault.  There 
were  grays  and  blacks,  and  roans 
and  chestnuts,  and  sorrels.  But  we 
mounted  no  more  of  them. 

Albert  did  try  several,  but  we  paid 
no  attention  to  what  he  said. 

At  last  we  left  the  place.  But  we 
had  been  bitten,  and  we  were  crazy, 
for  we  went  back  at  the  time  of  the 
auction.  And  we  bid  in  those  two 
horses  we  had  ridden.  Nobody  bid 
against  us,  that  is,  to  amount  to  any 
thing,  and  at  the  time  I  thought  this 
peculiarly  fortunate.  I  thought  so 
until  Albert  kindly  informed  me  that 
the  reason  folks  didn't  bid  was  because 
they  knew  better,  and  it  wasn't  be 
cause  we  were  lucky.  I  have  never 
been  willing  to  tell  how  ridiculously 
small  was  the  sum  I  paid  for  The 
Thane.  We  immediately  named  him 
The  Thane,  for  no  reason  whatever. 
Amabel's  mount  cost  $1.50  more  than 
33 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

mine;  I  don't  know  why,  I'm  sure,  for 
any  one  could  see  with  half  an  eye  that 
mine  was  a  much  finer  animal. 

"You'd  better  start  off  mighty  quick 
on  your  trip,  Am,"  Albert  remarked, 
as  we  walked  home  from  the  station, 
"for  pa  won't  want  them  mules  round 
long." 

When  the  two  horses  arrived  before 
dark  that  day,  and  Amabel's  father 
looked  at  them,  all  the  remark  he  made 
then  was: 

"Well,  horses  are  not  extinct — yet." 

Amabel  went  directly  to  her  room 
and  burst  into  tears.  I  tried  to  com 
fort  her  by  telling  her  that  simply  be 
cause  her  father  was  a  man  was  no 
reason  that  he  should  be  a  judge  of 
horse  flesh.  And  I  added  that  I  wished 
we  were  on  the  road  to  the  Cape. 
When  we  were  once  on  the  way,  even 
if  our  purchases  were  not  approved,  no 
one  would  dare  to  sneer  at  them. 

On  the  whole,  Amabel's  father 
behaved  very  well.  The  morning  we 
34 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

started  he  told  us  that  we  were  fair 
riders,  and  we  were  going  through  a 
civilized  country,  where  some  one,  no 
doubt,  would  telegraph  to  him  if  it 
were  necessary.  Then  he  said  that  he 
had  prepared  a  little  gift  for  each  of 
us,  and  he  pinned  to  the  lapel  of  my 
jacket  a  white  button.  I  found  that 
my  full  name  and  address  were  printed 
on  my  button,  and  Amabel's  only 
varied  in  that  it  was  her  name  upon 
hers. 

"Kind  of  tags,  you  know,"  said  the 
gentleman.  And  he  kissed  Amabel 
and  shook  hands  with  me;  and  the 
housekeeper  threw  old  shoes  after  us, 
one  of  which  hit  Amabel's  horse  and 
made  him  lunge  forward.  And  we 
both  looked  back  and  waved  our 
hands,  and  The  Thane  shied  violently 
at  something  which  proved  to  be 
Albert  leaping  over  the  wall  to  say 
good-by. 

We  did  not  know  why  the  boy  had 
given  up  buying  a  horse. 
35 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

He  now  came  forward  to  his  sister's 
side  and  held  out  an  object,  saying  as 
he  did  so : 

"Here,  Sis,  take  this.  You'll  see 
I've  fixed  a  place  in  the  saddle  for  it. 
I  sh'll  rest  nights  if  I  know  you  have 
something  to  protect  you." 

Amabel  extended  her  hand.  She 
was  touched  by  this  thoughtfulness. 
But  she  asked  warily : 

"Will  it  go  off?" 

"Not  unless  you  throw  it." 

Albert  drew  back. 

"Where  you  goin'  to  stop  first 
night?" 

"Middleborough." 

"All  right,  go  ahead.  You  both 
look  splendid." 

We  went  ahead.  What  did  this 
kindness  and  this  compliment  mean? 

When  we  had  turned  the  first  corner 
we  stopped  that  Amabel  might  exam 
ine  what  her  brother  had  bestowed 
upon  her.  It  proved  to  be  a  bowie 
knife,  very  rusty,  and  much  hacked  at 
36 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

the  edge,   as  though    rocks  had   been 
cut  with  it. 

Amabel  placed  it  in  a  leather  sheath 
which  she  now  found  tacked  to  her 
saddle.  Little  did  we  think  that  this 
weapon  might  be  the  means  of  destroy 
ing  our  enemies,  saving  our  lives,  and 
bringing  us  back  safely  from  Cape 
Cod.  For  the  Cape,  to  any  one  dwell 
ing  south  of  Boston,  always  means 
Cape  Cod.  To  us  there  is  no  other 
cape  in  the  world  that  is  worth  men 
tioning.  And  we  were  going  there. 
A  small  bag  was  fastened  at  the  back 
of  each  saddle;  our  steeds  were  well 
fed ;  our  hearts  beat  high ;  the  blue  of 
summer  was  above  us;  fair  bloomed 
the  way;  with  something  or  other  at 
the  prow,  and  pleasure  at  the  helm — 
thus  our  palfreys  pranced  gaily  along 
the  village  street,  and  knights  and 
ladies  looked  down  upon  us  from  tower 
and  battlement;  while  low-browed 
churls  stared  from  postern  gates.  But 
little  we  recked. 

37 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

To  come  back  to  realism,  Mrs. 
Mahala  Bacon,  commonly  called  "Aunt 
Ma'ly, "  was  hanging  out  her  wash  on 
a  line  which  was  fastened  between  the 
cherry  trees  in  her  front  yard.  She 
had  a  wet  pillowcase  in  her  hand,  and 
a  clothespin  in  her  mouth,  when  she 
caught  sight  of  us.  She  dropped  her 
pillowcase  into  the  basket,  but  retained 
the  clothespin  between  her  teeth  as  she 
hurried  forward.  We  were  going  at 
the  tiniest  bit  of  a  canter,  and  we 
hoped  to  get  by,  but  she  flung  out  a 
hand  to  us  and  we  were  obliged  to 
stop.  Aunt  Ma'ly  had  small  black 
eyes  that  seemed  something  like  holes 
bored  in  her  face ;  she  had  a  big  mouth 
and  no  chin  to  speak  of,  and  she  lived 
alone  with  two  cats  and  a  canary  bird. 
The  canary  needed  constant  guarding 
from  the  cats.  Aunt  Ma'ly's  occupa 
tion  was  to  take  in  washing  and  protect 
her  cats.  She  had  for  years  taken  in 
our  washing. 

She  was  now  obliged  to  remove  that 
38 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

bit  of  wood  from  her  mouth.  She 
gazed  at  us  a  moment,  however,  before 
she  spoke.  Then  she  asked : 

"Be  them  your  horses?" 

Yes,  they  were. 

Her  silence  after  our  reply  was 
extremely  irritating.  I  shall  always 
be  grateful  that  we  didn't  break  that 
silence  otherwise  than  by  saying  at 
last,  "G'long!"  this  exclamation  being 
addressed  to  our  steeds,  and  not  to 
Aunt  Ma'ly. 

"Wait  a  minute!  where  be  you 
started  for?" 

"The  Cape." 

"The  Cape?  Oh,  my  sister,  Sarah 
Ramsey,  lives  to  Provincetown.  She's 
married  to  a  Portugee  down  there.  Be 
you  goin'  's  fur's  Provincetown?" 

Yes,  we  thought  we  should. 

"Oh,  well — wait  a  minute."  She 
looked  from  us  to  the  open  door,  then 
back  again.  I  saw  Amabel  fidget  in 
her  saddle. 

Aunt  Ma'ly  came  a  few  steps  nearer. 

39 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

So  near  that  she  placed  one  parboiled 
hand  on  The  Thane's  neck,  and  that 
animal  tossed  its  head. 

"If  I  put  a  kitten  in  a  bag,  can't  you 
take  it  down  to  Sister  Sarah  Ramsey?" 
she  asked;  "bein"  's  you're  goin'  to 
Provincetown. ' ' 

I  immediately  stammered  out  a 
refusal,  feeling  very  mean  and  unkind. 
She  ought  to  have  known  better.  A 
kitten  in  a  bag,  indeed ! 

Aunt  Ma'ly's  face  fell.  She  turned 
a  little  to  one  side.  I  thought  her  chin 
quivered. 

"Oh,  well,  you  see,"  she  began,  in  a 
minute,  "Sister  Sarah's  always  wanted 
one  of  my  kittens  that  was  marked  all 
yeller,  'n'  black,  'n'  white,  'n'  gray, 
like  its  mother.  Terrible  good  mous- 
ers  they  be.  'N'  I've  never  had  one 
jest  exactly  like  its  mother  till  this 
last  litter.  It's  four  weeks  old  now, 
'n'  s'  cunnin'  you'd  die  a-watchin' 
it." 

Aunt  Ma'ly  had  dropped  her  clothe s- 
40 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

pin.  She  now  stooped  and  picked  it 
up.  She  moved  back  further  still. 
Her  heavy  mouth  closed  sorrowfully. 
I  thought  that  Amabel  uttered  a  slight 
groan. 

"Sister  Sarah  ain't  walked  a  step  for 
over  five  years,  'n'  she's  s'  fond  of  pets 
that  I  tell  her  she  ought  to  have  a 
menager-ee.  I  guess  I'll  finish  puttin' 
out  them  clo'es." 

She  turned  away  and  hurried  to  her 
basket.  She  picked  up  the  pillowcase 
and  shook  it  so  that  it  snapped.  Why 
didn't  we  go  on?  I  was  waiting  for 
Amabel  to  start,  and  I  was  wondering 
if  she  felt  as  guilty  as  I  felt.  It  is  not 
an  agreeable  sensation  to  feel  guilty, 
and  one  resents  the  emotion. 

Aunt  Ma'ly  was  now  hanging  out  a 
sheet.  I  wished  that  we  had  gone  by 
some  other  road,  but  who  could  fore 
see  that  some  one  on  this  particular 
highway  would  request  us  to  take 
charge  of  a  kitten  in  a  bag? 

Now  I  heard  Amabel  saying,  "Aunt 
41 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Ma'ly,    I'll   try  to  carry  the  kitten  if 
you'll  get  it  ready.  " 

I  had  feared  this;  for  Amabel  has  a 
kind  heart.  If  you  travel  with  a  per 
son  who  has  a  kind  heart  you  may 
expect  all  sorts  of  impositions. 

I  remained  silent.  I  knew  that  it 
was  wicked  to  be  angry.  I  .studiously 
gazed  out  over  the  fields  and  tried  to 
appreciate  them  as  scenery.  But  my 
blood  was  boiling.  Here  we  were, 
just  started  on  a  pleasure  trip,  with 
absolutely  no  facilities  for  transporting 
kittens.  Then  a  thought  struck  me. 
We  could,  perhaps,  get  the  kitten  as 
far  as  Middleborough.  When  we  had 
reached  that  town,  I  \vould  procure  a 
box  fitted  with  the  latest  thing  in 
ventilation,  and  I  would  express  the 
kitten  to  Sarah  Ramsey,  who  had 
married  a  Portuguese. 

Having  let  a  ray  of  light  in  upon  my 
soul    by    this    resolve,    what    do    you 
think  were  my  feelings  when  I  listened 
to  the  following  conversation? 
42 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Aunt  Ma'ly  came  quickly  forward 
again.  Her  face  was  quite  bright, 
and  her  voice  was  unsteady,  as  she 
said: 

"Oh,  well,  will  you  now?  But 
mebby  it'll  be  some  trouble — though 
it's  a  dretful  cute  kitten,  and  the  very 
image  of  its  mother." 

I  listened  to  hear  Amabel  utter  a 
falsehood  and  say,  "It  won't  be  any 
trouble,"  but  she  only  repeated  that 
she  would  try  to  take  it. 

Aunt  Ma'ly  hurried  into  the  house. 
We  heard  her  calling  "Kitty!  kitty!" 
and  then  scurrying  about,  slamming 
doors.  I  refrained  from  looking  at  my 
companion,  and  I  think  she  refrained 
from  looking  at  me. 

After  a  few  minutes  the  woman 
came  running  down  the  path,  ducking 
her  head  to  avoid  the  wet  clothes. 
She  was  beaming.  She  had  an  empty 
shorts  bag  held  up  against  her  breast 
— empty,  save  for  a  slight  protuber 
ance  which  mewed  and  squirmed. 
43 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"I  thought  I'd  take  this  kind  of  a 
bag,"  she  said,  "  'cause  the  meshes  is 
so  loose  she  can  breathe  first-rate,  'n' 
you  won't  have  to  worry  'bout  her 
suffocatin'.  She  likes  fresh  meat 
grand,  though  it's  plaguey  little  she  gits 
with  me.  If  you  let  her  out  in  your 
room  nights  wherever  you  stop,  she'll 
ketch  all  the  mice.  She'll  be  real  handy 
for  ye  both,  that  way.  There,  can't 
you  have  her  ride  somehow  like  that?" 

Aunt  Ma'ly  placed  the  writhing 
package  in  front  of  Amabel. 

"You'll  have  to  bring  me  a  cord  to 
fasten  the  bag  to  the  pommel,  for  I 
may  not  be  able  to  hold  it  always," 
said  my  friend.  How  mildly  she 
spoke!  Was  she  also  thinking  of 
express  facilities? 

"That's  splendid,"  exclaimed  the 
owner  of  the  kitten.  "Don't  mind 
her  mewing.  She  don't  mean  nothing. 
Oh,  I  'most  forgot.  I  want  ye  to 
promise  not  to  put  her  aboard  no 
express.  Sister  Sarah's  often  wrote 
44 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

me  that  she'd  pay  charges  if  I'd  only 
send  one  of  my  yeller  'n'  black,  'n' 
gray,  'n'  white  cats  to  her,  but  I  always 
did  say  there  shouldn't  no  animil  of 
mine  ever  be  sent  that  way.  They 
'buse  um.  You  promise,  won't  ye?" 

What  a  piteous  eagerness  there  was 
in  the  voice ! 

"I  promise,"  said  Amabel,  faintly. 

Then  we  rode  on.  When  we  had 
turned  the  first  corner,  I  ventured  to 
make  a  remark. 

"Our  fate  is  sealed,"  I  said. 

"Yes,"  responded  Amabel,  still  more 
faintly. 

And  in  the  silence  that  followed  the 
kitten  mewed. 

"We  might  as  well  turn  back. 
Better  never  see  Provincetown  than  to 
go  like  this.  Shall  we  go  home?" 

"Do  you  want  to  meet  Albert?" 

No,  I  knew  I  didn't  want  to  meet 
Albert;  nor  his  father,  nor  the  house 
keeper  who  had  thrown  old  shoes  at  us 
but  one  brief  hour  ago. 
45 


SAND    'Nf    BUSHES 

"There's  one  thing  you  have  not 
promised  not  to  do,"  I  resumed,  more 
cheerfully. 

"What  is  that?  I've  already  prom 
ised  enough  to  curse  me." 

Amabel  spoke  with  excessive  bitter 
ness. 

"You  haven't  promised  not  to  drown 
that  kitten." 

"No;  but  I  couldn't  drown  a  kitten 
to  save  my  life.  Besides,  Sister  Sarah 
Ramsey  will  be  notified  that  this  crea 
ture  is  on  the  way,  and — oh,  I  wish  I 
had  never  been  born ! ' ' 

The  kitten  continued  to  mew.  We 
urged  our  horses  to  a  gallop,  and  pres 
ently  we  turned  a  corner  into  a  long 
road  that  stretched  away  among  the 
fields  and  pine  trees,  and  across  which 
birds  flew,  and  sometimes  a  keen,  alert 
squirrel  darted  from  one  side  to  the 
other.  It  was  a  lovely  road,  and  went 
straight  on,  as  if  it  might  at  last  really 
reach  the  blue  sky  that  came  down,  far 
away,  to  meet  it. 

46 


SAND   'N'    BUSHES 

My  horse  had  gone  a  little  in 
advance.  There  was  no  disputing  the 
fact  that  The  Thane  had  a  fine,  easy 
gallop,  and  was  superior  to  Amabel's 
horse.  I  was  complacently  thinking 
thus  and  becoming  soothed  by  the 
sweet  air  and  that  blue  sky  toward 
which  we  were  riding,  when  Amabel 
hastily  called  my  name. 

She  was  a  short  distance  behind. 
Something  was  dangling  and  jumping 
by  her  horse's  knees.  It  is  superfluous 
to  state  that  it  was  the  kitten.  Persons 
who  have  never  had  the  advantage  of 
knowing  what  a  shorts  bag  is  may 
require  a  brief  description  of  that 
article.  The  bran  called  shorts  in  our 
part  of  New  England  may,  I  suppose, 
be  put  up  in  other  receptacles,  but  it  is 
not.  The  bags  are  of  very  light, 
coarse  texture,  fully  a  yard  long  and  of 
about  the  same  width.  There  is  plenty 
of  room  in  a  shorts  bag  for  a  kitten  to 
disport  itself,  and  bring  agony  to  the 
heart  of  its  guardian.  This  kitten  was 
47 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

now  bringing  agony  to  Amabel's  heart. 
It  was  still  in  the  bag,  but  the  part  of 
the  bag  which  held  the  kitten  had 
slipped  down,  and,  as  I  have  stated, 
was  swinging  back  and  forth  by  the 
horse's  knees.  But  the  top  of  the  bag 
was  shut  and  fastened  to  the  pommel 
of  Amabel's  saddle. 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?"  I 
asked. 

"I  don't  know.  Sit  and  look  at  me, 
perhaps,"  was  the  response. 

I  didn't  like  to  dismount.  It  is  easy 
to  get  'down,  as  we  all  know,  but  diffi 
cult  to  get  up,  and  I  did  not  approve  of 
the  tone  of  Amabel's  reply  to  my 
inquiry. 

"That  kitten  has  too  much  latitude," 
I  said. 

"I  don't  know  about  her  having  too 
much  latitude — she  has  too  many 
claws.  There!  Isn't  she  trying  to 
climb  up  my  horse's  leg?" 

"Why  don't  you  pull  the  bag  up?" 

"I  have,  and  she  sticks  her  claws 
48 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

right  in.  My  horse  is  an  angel  or  he 
wouldn't  bear  it." 

At  this  moment  the  animal  ceased  to 
bear  it  in  calmness.  Probably  it  was 
at  this  moment  that  he  really  felt  the 
sting  of  those  sharp  claws.  He  reared 
and  snorted. 

"Can  you  stick  to  the  saddle?"  I 
cried. 

"I  don't  know — I'll  try." 

The  horse  reared  again. 

"Drop  it!  Drop  it!"  I  cried.  I 
knew  that  my  friend  was  a  good  rider, 
but  I  didn't  know  just  what  she  needed 
to  throw  her  off. 

"Drop  what?"  she  cried. 

"Why,  the  cat." 

"I  can't,  I  tell  you!" 

"Can't?     Why  not?" 

"Besides,  the  horse  might  step  on 
it." 

Another  rear.  Great  cries  and 
scramblings  from  the  bag. 

I  made  a  grab  at  the  reins,  but  of 
course  I  missed  them. 

49 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"You  may  have  to  choose  between 
your  own  life  and  the  cat,"  I  said. 

The  horse  stood  quiet  a  moment ;  the 
bag  hung  motionless;  it  looked  per 
fectly  innocent,  so  innocent,  in  fact, 
that  one  might  have  thought  it  was  a 
bag,  and  nothing  more. 

"Now,  drop  the  thing,"  I  pleaded 
again. 

Amabel  was  fumbling  with  the 
string,  which  was  really  a  small  rope. 

"She's  tied  it  somehow  to  the  iron 
underneath,"  she  announced,  despond 
ently. 

And  it  was  true.  Amabel's  saddle 
was  a  little  shabby,  and  some  of  the 
leather  was  worn  away  so  that  Aunt 
Ma'ly  had  passed  the  rope  through  and 
tied  it  in  a  thorough-going  "square 
knot,"  instead  of  putting  a  loop  on  the 
horn. 

I  hurriedly  took  my  satchel  from 
behind  me.  I  was  in  search  of  a  pen 
knife.  A  man  would  have  had  one  in 
his  pocket.  Just  as  I  had  snapped 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

open  the  satchel  Amabel's  horse  bolted. 
Even  at  such  a  time  I  could  admire  my 
friend's  seat  and  the  way  in  which  she 
swayed  to  the  motion.  The  bag  swung 
violently.  I  spurred  after.  In  a  few 
moments  I  became  certain  that  the  bag 
wasn't  swinging.  This  was  a  dreadful 
knowledge.  The  kitten  was  clinging 
with  its  claws  to  the  horse's  chest, 
and  that  was  why  the  bag  didn't  swing. 

I  fear  that  I  am  harrowing  the  dear 
reader.  And  why  should  I  dwell  upon 
this  episode  when  I  may  as  well  say 
directly  that  no  hero  came  to  the  res 
cue;  no,  not  even  a  commonplace  man? 

All  at  once  the  horse  stopped,  and 
got  down  on  its  knees.  It  was  going 
to  roll;  and  who  can  blame  him? 

Amabel  slipped  off  the  saddle,  but 
kept  hold  of  the  bridle.  I  will  say  for 
her  that  she  is  a  person  of  quick  wit 
and  ready  resource.  She  took  hold 
close  to  the  bit,  and  she  was  so  firm 
about  it  that  the  horse  changed  his 
mind  and  did  not  roll. 
5i 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

I  rode  up  and  dismounted.  It  be 
came  my  duty  to  remove  the  cat  in  the 
bag.  I  did  remove  it,  and  held  it  in 
my  arms,  but  the  rope  and  the  knot 
still  clung  to  the  saddle  iron. 

We  stood  in  the  road  speechless.  We 
were  only  some  five  miles  from  home, 
but  it  seemed  as  if  we  were  in  a  strange 
country,  and  in  the  midst  of  wild 
adventures. 

A  horse,  dragging  a  load  of  wood, 
walked  slowly  out  from  a  cart-path  a 
little  ways  behind  us.  It  came  plod 
ding  forward,  its  large  ears  drooping 
apart,  its  big  feet  looking  as  if  feeling 
the  way  with  each  step.  After  a 
moment  a  man's  legs  in  brown  overalls 
were  visible  behind  the  load.  These 
legs  came  steadily  on,  as  if  they 
were  nothing  but  legs,  and  had  chosen 
to  take  a  walk  behind  a  load  of 
wood. 

"I  wish  we  could  get  away  before 
that  man  comes, ' '  said  Amabel. 

"I  wish  we  could,  for  I  think 
52 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

those   are    Cyrus  Green's    legs,"  I  re 
sponded. 

"Yes,"  from  Amabel,  despondently, 
"I  thought  it  was  Cyrus  Green's  white 
horse.  As  if  it  were  not  enough  that 
we  should  be  here  like  this,  but  that 
that  old  gossip  should  see  us." 

"Let  us  mount  and  fly." 

"You  know  we  can't  mount  without 
leading  our  horses  to  stumps  or  fences 
and  then  clambering  on — that  is  be 
cause  we  wear  skirts  and  sit  on  side 
saddles.  I'm  going  to  reform." 

Afterward,  when  it  was  too  late,  I 
remembered  Amabel's  threat  in  regard 
to  reformation. 

Cyrus  Green  now  came  forward  and 
walked  by  his  front  nigh  wheel.  He 
had  seen  us,  and  he  flourished  his  whip 
and  said,  "Huddup!" 

I  could  see  his  bleared  old  eyes  shine 
with  interest.  He  licked  his  lips  as  he 
stepped  up  to  us,  while  his  horse 
sagged  back  against  the  harness,  glad 
to  wait. 

53 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"What?  Why!  I  say!  Oh,  it's  you 
two  women,  ain't  it?"  he  began. 
"Had  no  accident?" 

He  seemed  to  be  hunting  for  an 
accident  as  a  dog  noses  for  a  bone 
which  he  smells,  but  cannot  see. 

"No,"  said  Amabel. 

"Ain't?  Why,  how's  this,  eh? 
What  ye  both  off  for?" 

"We  got  off." 

"Oh,  what?  Ain't  either  of  ye  hurt 
none?" 

"No." 

His  eyes  traveled  carefully  over 
us. 

"What  ye  got  in  that  bag?" 

"A  cat." 

"A  cat?  Mercy  sake!  But  women 
will  do  the  queerest  things!"  He 
licked  his  lips  again. 

"Eh?     I  don't  believe  it's  a  cat." 

"What  do  you  think  'tis?" 

"Eh?  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure. 
Whose  cat  is  it?" 

"It  was  Mahala  Bacon's." 

54 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"What?  That's  so?  Whose  is  it 
now?" 

"It's  going  to  be  Sarah  Ram 
sey's." 

Cyrus  Green  rubbed  his  hard,  pitch 
blackened  hands  together.  He  laughed 
— for  there  was  the  sound  of  a  laugh — 
though  there  was  little  change  in  his 
countenance.  But  his  countenance 
was  not  formed  to  express  emotion.  I 
suppose,  however,  that  curiosity  may 
be  classed  as  an  emotion. 

"Sarah  Ramsey?  Why,  she's  the 
one  that  married  a  Portugee,  'n'  lives 
on  the  Cape,  ain't  she?" 

"Yes." 

"I  remember.  Folks  talked  'bout 
her  wantin'  to  marry  an  outlandish 
critter.  But  they  say  he  makes  a  good 
husband.  Goes  coddin'  to  the  Banks. 
Off  month  after  month.  First-rate 
husband  he  makes." 

Mr.  Green  seemed  disposed  toward 
conversation ;  and  he  evidently  thought 
that,  to  be  off  month  after  month 
55 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

coddin'  was  part  of    the  making  of  a 
good  husband. 

"Be    them    your  horses?"   he    now 
inquired. 


Ill 

THE    GIRL    WITH    A    SPINE 

Mr.  Cyrus  Green  approached  The 
Thane  and  punched  his  chest.  The 
Thane  promptly  nipped  at  Mr.  Cyrus 
Green.  The  latter  sprang  back  and 
remarked  that  The  Thane  was  "a  pesky 
thing." 

Then  he  went  and  punched  Amabel's 
horse,  and  he  kicked  out  a  hind  foot. 

"Be  they  your'n?"  he  repeated,  for 
no  one  had  replied  to  his  first  question. 

"Yes,  sir,"  responded  Amabel,  in  a 
formal  manner. 

"Eh?  What?  You  don't  mean  to 
say  that  you  went  and  bought  them 
critters?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Where'd  you  git  urn?" 

"Boston." 

57 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"D'you  pick  um  oiit?" 

Amabel  faced  about  more  fully  to 
ward  her  interlocutor.  There  was  a 
flash  in  her  eye. 

"Did  you  pick  your  horse  out,  Mr. 
Green?"  she  asked. 

Mr.  Green  shrank  a  little. 

"I?  Eh?  What  say?"  in  some  em 
barrassment. 

Amabel  repeated  her  question,  thus 
carrying  the  war  into  the  enemy's 
camp. 

Cyrus  rubbed  his  face. 

"My  hoss,"  he  said,  "b'longed  to  my 
wife's  father,  'n'  when  he  died  'twas 
part  of  her  share."  He  turned  to  look 
at  the  animal.  "  'Tain't  no  great 
trotter,  but  it's  a  good  hauler." 

I  was  now  holding  the  kitten.  I  re 
marked  in  a  cheerful  and  careless  man 
ner  that  I  would  carry  the  cat  for  a 
little  while;  and  I  guessed  we'd  better 
be  going.  It  did  not  seem  profitable  to 
stay  and  talk  with  Cyrus  Green. 

But  to  say  we  would  go  and  to  go 

58 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

were  two  very  different  things.  We 
looked  about  for  a  fence ;  but  this  was 
a  place  where  there  were  no  fences. 

"How  do  ye  git  up  on  to  the  crit 
ters?"  inquired  Cyrus.  He  rubbed  his 
hands  together  again,  and  they  made  a 
crackling  sound  as  he  did  so.  "D'you 
say  you  got  um  in  Boston?  D'you  pay 
much  for  um?" 

"We're  going  to  mount,"  said  Ama 
bel,  "from  the  hub  of  the  hind  wheel 
of  your  cart.  Do  you  think  your  horse 
will  stand  still?" 

"Stand  still?  You  bet!"  Again 
there  was  the  sound  as  if  some  one 
were  laughing. 

Without  any  delay  my  friend  led  her 
horse  to  the  wheel.  '  I  promptly  ad 
vanced  and  held  the  bridle  with  one 
hand,  while  I  pressed  the  kitten  to  me 
with  the  other.  Cyrus  Green  watched 
us  closely.  I  saw  him  run  his  tongue 
out  over  his  lips.  As  I  saw  him  dp  this 
I  felt  a  sudden  and  keen  pity  for  his 
wife.  But  why  should  one  waste  pity 

59 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

in  that  way?  Who  could  tell  that 
Mrs.  Green  was  not  fond  of  seeing  her 
husband  in  the  performance  of  this 
habit?  One  person  has  different  tastes 
from  another.  While  I — but  this 
opened  a  large  field  for  conjecture. 

Meantime  Amabel  was  in  the  saddle, 
and  I  was  left  standing  on  the  ground 
with  Mr.  Green  and  the  kitten. 

"Perhaps  Mr.  Green  will  help  you?" 
sweetly  suggested  Amabel. 

"Eh?"  said  Cyrus. 

I  led  The  Thane  to  the  hub.  Mr. 
Green  took  the  bridle  and  the  shorts 
bag. 

"I  guess  you'll  be  consid'able  busy  if 
you're  goin'  to  travel  this  kind  of  a 
way,"  he  remarked.  "It  beats  all 
natur'  how  you  c'n  want  to  do  it.  But 
women  are  notional.  Marthy,  she's 
notional  herself.  There,  be  you  on? 
You  be?  Where  sh'll  I  put  this  cat? 
By  the  Old  Harry!  You  two've  got 
good  grit." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Green."  This,  as 
60 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

I  took  the  cat,  which  seemed  for  the 
instant  to  be  in  a  quiescent  state. 

"You're  welcome.  'Tain't  no 
trouble  for  me  to  hold  that  bag  a  min 
ute."  He  stepped  back  a  little. 
"What  d'you  say  you  paid  for  them 
hosses?" 

"We  didn't  say;  it's  a  secret,"  said 
Amabel.  • 

And  then,  being  now  able  to  depart, 
we  departed. 

And  I  held  the  cat. 

Having  proceeded  thus  far  with  these 
pages,  I  see  plainly  that  I  am  in  great 
danger  of  saying  too  much  about  Aunt 
Ma'ly's  kitten  that  we  were  taking  to 
sister  Sarah  Ramsey.  In  point  of  fact, 
I  have  a  desire  to  write  almost  ex 
clusively  of  it,  just  as,  in  the  midst  of 
fine  scenes,  if  there  be  a  pin  sticking 
into  the  flesh  we  are  thinking  of  the 
pin  more  than  of  that  castle  on  the 
Rhine,  the  sight  of  which  we  had 
thought  would  give  us  ecstasies  of 
pleasure.  I  wish  to  record  here  that  I 
61 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

am  only  going  to  speak  of  the  cat  when 
I  positively  cannot  help  it.  And  it 
may  get  lost,  though  it  cannot  lose 
itself  very  far,  tied  in  that  bag;  and 
it  may  die,  though  cats  do  not  often 
die. 

Still  they  are  mortal,  for  Amabel 
avers  that  she  had  seen  a  dead  cat. 

The  road  continued  lonely  for  sev 
eral  miles.  We  had  entered  upon  a 
farming  country,  and  there  were 
stretches  of  ploughed  land  where  corn 
and  potatoes  were  springing  up.  It 
was  early  summer.  Sometimes  there 
were  men  holding  plough  handles,  and 
staggering  along  in  the  furrow  behind 
a  horse  that  walked  solemnly  ahead, 
turning  in  response  to  hoarse  shouts. 

Always  these  men  called  out 
"Whoa!"  and  the  horses  stood  still 
while  their  owners  gazed  raptly  at  us. 
We  heard  one  man  call  to  another  who 
was  hoeing  at  a  distance : 

"Who  be  they?" 

"Dunno.     Two  fool  women. " 
62 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Then  the  hoe  was  plied  again,  and 
the  plough  moved  on. 

The  sun  that  shone  on  these  fool 
women  was  very  bright,  and  the  air 
that  blew  on  them  was  very  sweet.  It 
was  now,  when  we  had  left  Cyrus 
Green  behind,  and  there  was  no  village 
in  sight,  that  we  began  to  feel  a  little 
as  we  had  believed  that  we  should  feel 
if  we  were  once  riding  forth  into  the 
wide  world. 

It  is  well  to  be  in  a  boat  that  slides 
over  the  water,  the  wind  filling  the 
sails  and  the  foam  rushing  by  the  keel, 
"the  blue  above  and  the  blue  below." 
It  is  also  well  to  be  in  the  saddle,  to 
hold  the  bridle  rein,  to  know  that  the 
sentient  creature  which  carries  you  is 
entirely  your  own,  subject  to  your  will. 
You  are  not  only  a  human  being.  You 
are  equine  as  well.  Two  natures  give 
you  sensations. 

Yes,  we  had  a  pleasant  gallop  down 
that  lonely  road,  and  the  occupants  of 
the  two  or  three  carriages  we  met  did 

63 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

not  look  upon  us  as  if  they  saw  de 
formed  creatures  disporting  themselves 
in  a  strange  way. 

We  saw  no  bicycles  until  we  turned 
on  to  a  fine,  wide  highway,  a  strip  of 
State  road  that  had  been  macadamized, 
and  that  consequently  was  dear  to  the 
heart  of  the  wheelman.  Here  we 
began  to  feel  old-fashioned,  for  here 
the  wheels  were  coming  and  going,  and 
young  men  in  sweaters  and  long  wool 
stockings,  lying  down  with  the  stomach 
well  over  the  steering  bar,  rolled  up 
their  eyes  pityingly  at  us  who  were  sit 
ting  upright,  and  who  were  not  pedal 
ing  for  dear  life. 

It  was  only  a  transient,  strained 
glance  that  they  could  give  us  from 
crimson,  sweat-grimed  faces.  They 
looked  as  if  they  were  undergoing  some 
kind  of  torture,  but  I  knew  that  really 
they  were  happy,  and  were  pitying  us. 
So  we  exchanged  pity. 

Under  a  pine  tree  there  was  a  pump 
and  a  trough  of  water.  Also  under 
64 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

this  tree  there  leaned  two  bicycles  and 
near  them  sat  two  girls.  They  wore 
dust-gray  short  skirts  and  knickers, 
their  hats  were  on  the  ground  beside 
them.  Their  faces  were  red;  but  a 
red  face,  even  in  a  girl,  is  not  an 
infallible  sign  of  unhappiness. 

Our  horses  walked  up  to  the  trough 
and  put  their  noses  in,  drinking  a  lit 
tle,  and  then  splashing  their  lips  about 
in  a  sort  of  luxury.  The  sun  was 
hot  by  this  time.  The  girls  were  eat 
ing  doughnuts  and  oranges.  We  two 
looked  at  those  two,  and  we  all  smiled. 
Then  one  of  them  approached  with  a 
folding  cup  in  her  hand.  She  paused 
at  Amabel's  side  and  asked: 

"Won't  you  have  a  drink  yourself? 
You  look  so  red  and  tired. " 

"Thank  you,"  said  Amabel,  "I  am 
thirsty.  And,"  she  added,  smiling, 
"we  were  just  pitying  you  and  your 
friend  for  looking  so  red  and  tired." 

She  took  the  cup  and  drank. 

"It  must  be  awful  to  be  bounced  up 
65 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

and  down  like  that,"  said  the  girl,  as 
she  brought  me  a  cup  of  water. 

"Oh,  but,"  said  Amabel,  as  I 
drank,  "we  can  keep  our  legs  still. 
And  we  don't  intend  to  bounce — 
much." 

"You  can't  help  it,"  remarked  the 
girl  who  had  not  spoken,  and  who  now 
rose  and  came  forward.  She  had  a 
half-eaten  doughnut  in  one  brown 
hand.  The  other  hand  she  put  on  The 
Thane's  mane,  combing  it  with  her 
fingers. 

"You've  got  to  bounce  more  or  less. 
Just  awfully  unhealthy.  I  would  not 
ride  horseback  for  a  thousand  dollars. 
I  should  have  a  weak  spine  again.  I'm 
wheeling  partly  for  my  spine  now. 
Come  into  the  country  for  my  spine. 
Learned  to  row  for  my  spine;  but  I 
don't  row  now,  I'm  biking  it — can't  do 
everything;  got  to  have  some  time  to 
sleep.  Why,  for  more  than  a  year 
I've  just  lived  for  my  spine.  What  do 
you  live  for?"  glancing  up  in  an  appar- 
66 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

ently  incidental  way  at  me  as  she  put 
the  question. 

"I?  Oh,"  just  now  I'm  living  for  a 
kitten.  We  must  live  for  something, 
you  know. ' ' 

"A  kitten?  Oh,  ain't  that  funny? 
Sue,  do  you  hear  that?  Where  is  it?" 

The  speaker  flung  away  the  fragment 
of  doughnut  and  clapped  her  hands. 

I  held  out  the  bag. 

"In  here,"  I  answered. 

' '  Please  let  me  see  it !  I  adore  kit 
tens.  I  think  they're  too  cunning  to 
live.  Do  let  me  see  it!" 

I  allowed  her  to  take  the  bag. 

"Be  careful.  Don't  let  it  get  away. 
We're  carrying  it  to  Provincetown  to  a 
woman  who  hasn't  walked  a  step  for 
five  years." 

"To  Provincetown?  Ain't  that 
funny?  Oh,  Sue,  just  look  here! 
Ain't  it  cunning?  Oh!  Is  there  an 
other  doughnut?  Oh,  there  must  be 
another  one !  I  want  to  feed  it.  Just 
look  at  its  little  cunning  nose!  Oh, 

67 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

see  its  nose,  Sue  Cummings!  Did  you 
ever?  Where  is  that  doughnut?  There 
was  one  left,  wasn't  there?  See  it  eat! 
Why,  it's  starved!"  with  a  look  at  us. 

"Don't  charge  us  with  starving  it," 
responded  Amabel,  with  some  asperity, 
"for  we've  not  had  it  more  than  three 
hours. ' ' 

"Oh,  but  ain't  it  hungry?  See  it  eat, 
Sue  Cummings !  Oh,  you  little  teenty, 
tonty  angel,  you!  I'm  just  a  good 
mind  to  squeeze  you  to  death.  How 
would  you  like  being  squeezed  to 
death,  you  darling  love?" 

A  shrill,  remonstrant  mew,  a  little 
struggle,  a  sharp  claw  on  a  girl's 
cheek,  and  Aunt  Ma'ly's  kitten  was 
leaping  up  the  slope  away  from  the 
road,  and  was  immediately  out  of  sight 
among  the  bayberry  and  sweet  fern. 

It  was  but  a  breath  of  time  before 
four  women  were  in  pursuit.  I  stopped 
to  fasten  our  horses.  Because  the  cat 
had  run  away  seemed  no  reason  why 
we  should  lose  our  horses  also.  And 

68 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

shall  I  confess  to  a  wild  and  glorious 
feeling  of  relief?  My  heart  must  be 
desperately  wicked. 

Nevertheless,  four  women  did  what 
four  women  could  do  toward  recaptur 
ing  that  kitten.  The  truth  is,  we 
couldn't  catch  even  a  glimpse  of  her. 
To  this  day  we  have  never  seen  her 
again.  We  do  not  know  whether  the 
earth  swallowed  her,  or  the  heavens 
took  her. 

At  last  we  returned  to  the  pine  tree 
and  the  pump  and  the  trough  of  water. 
On  the  way  Sue  and  her  companion 
expressed  a  hope  that  their  wheels 
hadn't  been  stolen.  They  said  that 
there  were  persons  who  lived  only  to 
steal  bicycles,  and  that  such  persons 
frequented  these  stretches  of  macad 
amized  road. 

But  when  we  drew  near  we  saw  that 
there  were  the  wheels  and  there  were 
the  horses.  Also  there  was  a  man  sit 
ting  in  the  shade  of  the  pine,  and  there 
was  a  fresh  wheel  of  a  vermilion  color 
69 


SAND   'N'    BUSHES 

drawn  up,  if  I  may  use  that  phrase, 
against  the  pump. 

The  young  man  rose  as  we  ap 
proached.  He  took  off  his  cap  and  said 
that  he  hoped  that  it  wasn't  a  private 
picnic  ground. 

"Oh,  no,"  replied  the  girl  who 
wasn't  Sue,  "we  thought  it  was  the 
king's  highway.'' 

There  was  perceptible  in  her  tone 
and  manner  that  indefinable  brighten 
ing  which  is  so  marked  in  some  girls 
when  a  young  man  appears  upon  the 
scene. 

"That's  what  I  thought,"  was  the 
response. 

The  speaker  resumed  his  hat.  "And 
since  we  agree,  I'll  stay  here.  My 
wheel  is  tired." 

He  sat  down  again,  this  time  at  the 
extremest  verge  of  the  shadow  cast  by 
the  pine  tree.  He  drew  a  small, 
square  volume  from  his  pocket  and 
appeared  to  become  entirely  immersed 
in  it. 

70 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

We  stood  around  the  pump  and  drank 
again. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry — I  never  was  so 
sorry  in  my  life.  I  shan't  sleep  a  wink 
to-night.  I  can  feel  it  in  my  spine 
now,"  asserted  the  girl. 

We  didn't  exactly  know  what  she  felt 
in  her  spine,  but  it  made  no  difference. 

'  'Oh,  Sue !  Who'd  have  thought  that 
kitten  would  have  done  such  a  thing? 
And  I  was  holding  on  just  as  tight ! ' ' 

She  turned  to  Amabel  and  con 
tinued: 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  awfully  sorry  I 
am.  And  it  seems  as  if  I  was  to 
blame;  when  I  really  wasn't  to  blame 
the  least  bit  in  the  wide  world. ' ' 

She  put  her  hand  up  to  her  cheek, 
where  was  a  long  scratch  from  which 
had  oozed  a  few  drops  of  blood,  now 
mingled  with  dust  and  perspiration. 

"Which  way  are  you  ladies  going?" 
now  asked  Sue. 

"We  mean  to  sleep  at  Middlebor- 
ough  to-night, ' '  answered  Amabel. 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Oh,  Sue,  ain't  that  funny!"  cried 
the  other.  "That's  where  we  are 
going.  That's  where  we  live — at  least, 
in  the  summer.  Oh,  I  declare,  that's 
too  funny  for  anything.  And  now  we 
can  keep  along  together;  and  when 
we  get  there  I  can  find  you  another 
kitten — ' ' 

"Not  another!"  interjected  Amabel, 
with  a  dramatic  start  backward. 

"Oh,  yes;  don't  you  be  discouraged. 
I  know  of  one  just  about  this  size, 
only  it's  all  black;  it's  awful  good  luck 
to  have  a  black  cat,  and  you  can  put  it 
right  in  the  same  bag  and — oh!  oh!" 
clapping  her  hand  again  to  her  face, 
and  veering  off  as  to  the  subject  of  her 
conversation,  "I  shall  look  just  like  a 
fright  with  this  scratch  for  heaven 
knows  how  long;  and  there's  the  lawn 
party  at  General  Jones's  to-morrow 
evening.  Sue,  do  you  think  you  can 
paint  it  over?" 

"Paint  what  over?"  from  Sue,  who 
had  taken  from  her  little  bag  of  kit  a 
72 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

little   monkey  wrench    and    was    now 
tightening  a  little  nut  on  her  wheel. 

"Oh,  how  stupid  you  are,  Sue  Cum- 
mings!  And  you're  always  doing 
something  with  that  monkey  wrench. 
Now  you're  about  it,  do  please  look  at 
my  machine.  I  thought  there  was  the 
leastest  bit  of  a  tinkle  somewhere  in 
front.  I  hate  a  tinkle  when  I'm  on  the 
road.  Don't  you  hate  a  tinkle  when 
you're  on  the  road?"  to  Amabel;  but 
waiting  for  no  reply  the  girl  went  on. 
"When  that  horrid,  nasty  kitten 
scratched  me  I  never  thought  about 
the  lawn  party.  Don't  you  think  you 
can  paint  it,  Sue?" 

The  person  addressed  answered  in 
differently  that  she  did  not  know,  she 
was  sure ;  and  went  on  with  her  wrench. 

There  was  a  slight  rustle  at  the  edge 
of  the  shade  where  the  young  man  sat 
studiously  with  his  book.  The  rustle 
was  caused  by  the  flutter  of  the  leaves 
of  his  volume,  which  he  now  closed. 
He  rose  and  spoke. 

73 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"I  hope  you'll  pardon  me,  ladies," 
he  said.  Though  he  said  ladies  he 
looked  at  the  girl  who  had  lost  Aunt 
Ma'ly's  kitten. 

He  hesitated.  It  struck  me  that  he 
wished  to  appear  shy,  but  that  he  did 
not  feel  shy  in  the  slightest.  There 
was  a  curious  twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

We  all  gazed  at  him  in  silence. 

"The  scratch,  you  know,  Miss — 
Miss ' ' 

"Langthorne,"  from  the  girl,  who 
sparkled  her  whole  face  at  the  young 
man.  Amabel  afterward  said  that  she 
hated  to  see  a  girl  sparkle  her  face  like 
that  at  a  man. 

"Miss  Langthorne,  the  scratch  can 
be  entirely  hidden.  It  is  too  bad  that 
a  countenance  like — like  yours,"  in 
great  apparent  confusion,  but  with  a 
very  efficient  eye-beam,  "should  be  dis 
figured  if  you  wish  to  attend  a  party." 

He  was  so  diffident,  and  yet  so 
earnest. 

"Oh,  how  kind!"  exclaimed  Miss 
74 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Langthorne,  effusively.      "Sue,  do  you 
hear  how  kind  Mr. — Mr. " 

"Riddle— Thomas  J.  Riddle,"  in  a 
low  voice. 

It  was  noticeable  that  this  gentle 
man's  voice,  though  low,  was  singularly 
clear  and  had  a  remarkable  carrying 
power. 

"How  kind  Mr.  Riddle  is!  Oh, 
you're  just  too  kind  for  anything,  I'm 
sure,  Mr.  Riddle.  But  I  wouldn't 
think  of  troubling  you;  I  couldn't 
think  of  it  for  a  single  instant.  I'm 
ever  so  much  obliged  to  you,  though. 
Sue,  don't  you  think  we  ought  to  be 
going?" 

Miss  Cummings  had  placed  her 
monkey  wrench  in  the  tiny  leather  bag 
that  was  fastened  back  of  the  bicycle 
saddle,  and  she  was  now  strapping  the 
bag.  She  responded  in  a  matter-of- 
fact  way  that  she  was  ready. 

Mr.     Riddle,     Thomas     J.      Riddle, 
stepped  back  a  pace,  not  as  one  who  is 
defeated,  but  as  one  who  waits. 
75 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Miss  Langthorne  walked  a  short 
distance  toward  her  wheel,  then  she 
returned  to  the  pump  and  began  to 
move  the  handle  up  and  down,  holding 
her  little  cup  under  the  spout.  It  was 
an  unwieldy  wooden  pump,  and  Mr. 
Riddle  hastened  forward. 

"Allow  me,"  he  said,  and  the  water 
spouted  forth  beneath  his  vigorous 
hand. 

"Oh,  how  nice  to  be  as  strong  as 
that!"  cried  Miss  Langthorne,  as  her 
hand  and  arm  and  cup  were  drenched. 
"Oh,  Sue,  I'd  give  anything  if  I  were 
as  strong  as  that!" 

Mr.  Riddle  dropped  the  handle  and 
bowed.  He  was  very  solemn  and  very 
deferential. 

The  two  girls  rolled  their  wheels  out 
to  the  road.  Miss  Cummings  mounted 
and  began  barely  to  move  along ;  Miss 
Langthorne  made  as  if  she  would 
mount,  but  didn't  succeed;  therefore 
Mr.  Riddle  darted  toward  her  and  held 
her  wheel. 

76 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Oh,  how  awkward  I  am!  Sue, 
can't  you  wait  for  me?" 

Sue  immediately  dismounted  and 
waited. 

Miss  Langthorne  looked  up  at  the 
young  man  who  was  steadying  her 
wheel.  She  gave  a  little  sparkle. 

"I  s'pose  you  were  joking  when  you 
said  you  could  paint  it  out,  weren't 
you,  now?"  she  asked. 

"Indeed,  no.  I  was  speaking  the 
simple  truth.  Not  that  I  should  think 
of  doing  it  myself.  I  could  give  you 
the  preparation;  you  or  your  friend 
could  apply  it. ' ' 

"Oh,  Sue!  Do  you  hear  Mr.  Rid 
dle?  He  says  you  could  apply  it.  How 
nice!" 

"Apply  what?" 

It  began  to  appear  that  Miss  Sue 
Cummings  did  not  always  listen  to  her 
companion's  prattle. 

"Oh,  stupid!  Why,  fix  my  face  so  I 
shan't  be  a  fright  at  General  Jones's. 
I  don't  care  one  bit" — to  Mr.  Riddle — 

77 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"how  brown  I  am,  nor  how  brown  my 
hands  are" — she  held  out  her  hands 
and  wriggled  her  fingers.  "I  think  it's 
just  as  lovely  as  it  can  be  to  get  to  be 
the  color  of  an  Indian,  don't  you  know? 
It  shows  you're  an  outdoor  girl,  you 
see." 

"It  wouldn't  show  I  was  an  outdoor 
girl, ' '  responded  Mr.  Riddle,  without  a 
smile. 

Miss  Langthorne  laughed. 

"Oh,  ain't  you  funny!" 

She  examined  the  young  man's  face 
for  an  instant,  in  what  seemed  an  en 
tirely  impersonal  way.  Then  she 
cried : 

"You're  brown  as  a  hazelnut  your 
self.  Now  I  really  must  go." 

"Which  way  are  you  going?" 

'  'To  Middleborough. ' ' 

"So  am  I ;  to  some  lakes  near  there. ' ' 

"Is  that  so?" 

Mr.  Riddle  bowed  assent. 

"How  funny!" 

"You  don't  think  there 'd  be  any 
78 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

harm,  Miss  Langthorne,  do  you,  if  I 
should  keep  you  two  ladies  in  sight?" 

"Oh,  Sue,  do  you  think  there 'd  be 
any  harm  if  Mr.  Riddle  should  keep  us 
in  sight?  He's  going  to  Middlebor- 
ough,  you  know.  We're  quite  a  party, 
aren't  we?"  She  glanced  at  us. 

"Mr.  Riddle  will  go  faster  than  we 
shall;  men  always  ride  faster  than 
women,"  replied  Miss  Cummings. 

"Yes;  so  they  do.  Oh,  Mr.  Riddle, 
we  couldn't  think  of  inconveniencing 
you." 

"You  don't  forbid  me,  then?" 

"N — no;  I  don't  forbid  you." 

Whereupon  the  two  girls  mounted 
again  and  spun  down  the  road. 

Mr.  Riddle  leisurely  took  his  wheel 
from  its  resting  place.  But  he  stopped 
to  drink  some  water  from  his  own  cup. 
First  he  offered  to  bring  us  a  drink,  but 
we  declined.  We  were  sitting  com 
fortably  on  the  dry  pine  needles  under 
the  tree.  There  were  reasons  why  we 
preferred  to  make  our  start  without 

79 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

spectators.  And  we  had  been  some 
what  interested  in  the  little  comedy 
talk,  though  a  very  little  more  of  Miss 
Langthorne  would  have  become  a 
weariness. 

As  he  again  turned  to  his  wheel  Mr. 
Riddle  allowed  an  expression  to  come 
to  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  It  was 
an  extremely  slight  expression,  and 
was  directly  banished,  but.  we  had 
seen  it. 

Presently  he  also  wheeled  away,  hav 
ing  lifted  his  hat  to  us  with  great 
gravity.  He  held  himself  erect,  and 
slid  over  the  ground  gracefully. 

Amabel  and  I  remained .  for  a  few 
moments  longer.  The  pine  gave  forth 
an  agreeable  odor;  the  country  stretch 
ing  before  us  was  pleasant  with  this 
sunlight  upon  it.  There  was  a  farm 
house  with  one  or  more  barns,  here  and 
there,  but  not  too  near.  We  liked  to 
see  the  crows  come  down  into  the  fields 
of  new  corn.  It  was  an  interesting 
sight  to  watch  two  or  three  crows 
80 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

advance  somberly  up  between  the 
young  rows.  They  didn't  care  at  all 
for  that  pole  with  a  cross-piece  on  it 
where  dangled  an  old  coat.  They 
knew  it  was  only  an  old  coat. 

One,  and  then  another,  would  stoop, 
twitch  up  a  stalk,  pull  off  the  swollen 
kernels  of  corn,  swallow  them,  and 
then  go  on  to  the  next.  And  what  a 
curious  mingling  of  business  and 
grotesque  solemnity  there  is  in  a  crow's 
walk!  Once  a  hound  came  racing 
through  the  cornfield.  The  crows  flew 
up,  cawing,  but  they  alighted  on  a 
low  savin,  and  hardly  waited  until  the 
dog  had  leaped  the  wall  before  they 
went  back  and  began  to  pull  up  the 
corn  again. 

Suddenly  a  shot  rang  out  so  close  to 
us  that  we  jumped  to  our  feet.  The 
crows  flew — but  one  wavered,  struggled 
to  move  its  wings  again,  then  fell 
among  the  corn. 

A  tall  boy  in  jumper  and  overalls 
rose  from  behind  a  rock  at  our  right. 
81 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

A  smoking  gun  rested  in  the  curve  of 
his  arm  as  he  walked  towards  us. 

"Thunderin'  old  things!"  he  cried. 
"It's  too  hard  work  to  plant  'n'  hoe 
corn  for  those  crows  to  eat.  I  guess 
they'll  keep  away  now  for  one  while. ' ' 

He  spoke  exultantly.  He  was  a 
handsome  fellow,  with  those  keen, 
intellectual  gray  eyes  which  are  often 
seen  in  the  faces  of  New  England  boys. 
The  chances  are  always  that  the  world 
will  hear  from  the  owners  of  such  eyes. 
He  looked  straight  at  us,  without  bold 
ness  and  without  shyness. 

"They'll  forget  that  you  killed  one," 
said  Amabel. 

"No,  they  won't.  I  sh'll  hang  that 
dead  crow  on  a  pole.  They'll  see  him. 
They're  a  bright  lot.  I've  often 
wished  I  was  as  bright  as  a  crow. 
Are  those  your  horses?"  The  boy's 
eyes  turned  toward  the  animals  tied 
down  near  the  pump. 


82 


IV 


THE  COMPACT  OF  THE  WATERING 
TROUGH 

By  this  time  we  had  begun  to  won 
der  at  the  great  interest  displayed 
when  we  were  asked  "if  those  were  our 
horses. ' ' 

Was  it  so  very  remarkable  that  they 
should  be  our  horses? 

"Yes,"  said  Amabel,  shortly.  The 
boy  turned  away;  he  was  certainly 
laughing. 

He  walked  off  down  into  the  corn 
field,  and  we  saw  him  hunting  for  the 
crow  he  had  just  shot.  Neither  of  us 
wished  to  repose  any  longer  by  the 
wayside.  We  looked  up  and  down  the 
road,  and  at  a  time  when  there  was  no 
one  in  sight  we  mounted  from  the  edge 
of  the  watering  trough.  But  the  edge 
83 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

of  a  watering  trough  is  not  a  place  that 
can  be  recommended  for  such  a  pur 
pose,  particularly  when  the  trough  is 
not  quite  steady  and  insists  upon  tip 
ping. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Amabel  and 
I  made  an  agreement  which,  to  distin 
guish  it  from  other  agreements,  we 
always  referred  to  as  "the  compact  of 
the  watering  trough. ' ' 

It  was  to  the  effect  that  we  would 
scrupulously  take  turns  as  to  who 
should  mount  first,  for  the  one  who 
first  climbed  to  the  saddle  could  have 
the  other  hold  her  horse  during  the 
process.  And  there  is  a  great  deal  in 
that. 

We  hoped  that,  as  we  proceeded  on 
our  journey,  we  should  become  more 
and  more  resigned,  or  more  and  more 
skillful  as  regards  the  preliminaries  to 
resuming  our  travels  after  a  halt.  We 
hoped,  but  we  did  not  expect. 

It  was  I  who  held  Amabel's  horse 
well  alongside  the  trough.  Therefore 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

it  will  be  seen  that  it  would  be  my 
friend's  turn  the  next  time. 

The  Thane  is  an  animal  who  frets  to 
go  when  you  want  him  to  stand  still — 
not  that  he  desired  so  much  to  go,  either. 

On  this  occasion,  when  I  led  him  to 
the  proper  position  alongside  the 
decaying  and  uncertain  edge  of  the 
trough  top,  he  insisted  upon  sheering 
away  for  the  distance  of  about  three 
feet.  He  did  this  sheering  while  I  was 
stepping  upon  the  trough.  Once,  in 
making  a  snatch  at  his  bridle,  I  unin 
tentionally  put  one  foot  down  into  the 
trough.  There  was  only  a  little  water 
in  the  bottom,  however,  for  the  thing 
leaked  like  a  sieve. 

The  Thane  watched  me  scramble 
with  an  interested  benignity  upon  his 
face.  As  soon  as  he  was  entirely  out 
of  position,  so  that  I  could  not  possibly 
get  on  his  back,  he  was  perfectly  quiet. 

Amabel  dared  not  come  near  enough 
even  to  attempt  to  be  of  service,  for, 
notwithstanding  that  tale  that  was  told 
85 


SAND    'N'   BUSHES 

us  that  these  horses  had  lived  together, 
they  always  bit  and  kicked  if  brought 
too  near  each  other.  Still  there  are 
human  beings  who  snap  and  scold,  but 
who  yet  abide  with  each  other. 

Therefore  my  friend  sat  her  horse  at 
two  rods  distance  and  watched  me. 

Now,  when  you  are  trying  to  bring 
an  animal  up  alongside  an  unsteady 
watering  trough  so  that  you  may  mount 
from  its  edge,  it  is  not  calming  to  be 
watched.  It  is  better  at  such  times  to 
be  in  entire  solitude. 

Again  I  stood  on  the  trough  edge, 
and  again  The  Thane  sidled  off  at  just 
the  instant  that  prevented  me  from 
landing  in  the  saddle.  Then  he  re 
mained  motionless,  looking  at  me. 
This  time  I  didn't  go  into  the  trough; 
I  brought  the  trough  down  to  the 
ground,  myself  with  it.  The  sides 
came  apart — in  fact,  there  was  no  more 
trough.  The  green  slime  that  had 
been  in  the  bottom  of  it  crept  along 
the  ground.  If  I  had  not  felt  so  hur- 
86 


SAND   'N'    BUSHES 

ried  I  am  positive  that  I  could  have 
written  a  decadent  poem  on  the  subject 
of  that  green  slime. 

"Oh,  dear!"  cried  Amabel,  "shall  I 
get  off?" 

"No,"  I  snapped;  "isn't  it  enough 
for  me  to  be  off,  with  no  prospect  of 
getting  on?" 

"Don't  lose  your  temper,"  she  re 
sponded.  I  wonder  why  it  is  that 
there  is  nothing  more  maddening  than 
to  be  told  not  to  lose  your  temper.  I 
lost  mine,  and  I  said  things.  But 
Amabel  has  apologized,  and  I  have 
forgiven  her. 

Just  now  she  remarked  that  she 
would  like  to  know  what  town  we  were 
in,  for  she  supposed  that  I  was  respon 
sible  for  that  watering  trough. 

Somebody  shouted  from  the  cornfield. 
The  boy  who  had  shot  the  crow  came 
running  toward  us.  He  walked  up  to 
The  Thane's  head  and  took  hold  of  the 
bridle  with  that  air  of  authority  which 
some  male  human  beings  can  put  forth, 
87 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

and  which  goes  so  far  toward  making 
them  lords  of  creation. 

' '  You  can  get  on  from  this  fence, ' ' 
said  the  boy. 

He  led  The  Thane  to  what  we  call  in 
New  England  "a  pair  of  bars."  It 
has  always  seemed  as  if  a  pair  of  posts 
would  be  more  appropriate. 

I  was  obliged  to  climb  to  the  top  bar, 
which  was  high,  and  from  there 
descend  upon  the  horse's  back.  This 
I  did,  The  Thane  holding  himself  in 
such  an  exemplary  manner  that  his 
behavior  reflected  upon  me,  and  tended 
to  make  one  believe  that  everything 
was  all  my  fault. 

I  thanked  the  boy  just  as  sweetly  as 
I  could;  if  he  had  not  been  a  New 
England  boy  with  just  that  kind  of 
eyes,  I  should  have  offered  him  a 
quarter,  but  I  was  saved  from  making 
that  mistake;  though  his  service  at 
that  moment  seemed  worth  thousands 
of  dollars  to  me. 

Then  we  rode  on.     The  shorts  bag 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

was  still  at  what  might  be  called  my 
saddle  bow,  where  I  had  placed  it,  but 
the  kitten,  where  was  she? 

This  was  the  question  that  I  put 
exultantly  to  my  companion.  I  found 
that  Amabel  was  low  in  her  mind  con 
cerning  that  cat.  She  said  that  I  ought 
never  to  have  let  that  girl  take  her; 
that — but  I  will  not  put  down  all  that 
was  said.  Amabel  remarked  that  her 
first  duty  when  we  reached  the  Namas- 
ket  House  would  be  to  write  to  Aunt 
Ma'ly,  and  that  she  would  rather  be 
killed  than  do  it. 

True  to  her  resolution,  when  we 
were  in  our  room  at  the  hotel,  my 
friend  called  for  paper  and  envelopes. 
She  was  a  very  long  time  composing 
her  epistle,  but  when  it  was  done  it 
was  only  this : 

"Dear  Aunt  Ma'ly:  I  am  dreadfully 
sorry,  but  she's  got  away.  We  looked 
and  looked,  but  we  couldn't  find  her. 
I'll  go  to  see  your  sister  Sarah  in 
Provincetown,  if  we  ever  get  there." 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Unknown  to  Amabel,  I  put  on  a 
postscript  consisting  of  these  words : 

"It  is  vain  to  regret.  We  did  what 
we  could.  We  will  bring  back  the 
shorts  bag." 

This  seemed  something  like  an 
epitaph,  but  I  sealed  the  envelope 
quickly,  and  the  missive  was  posted 
that  night.  I  am  harder  hearted  than 
my  friend,  and  I  was  unfeignedly 
hilarious  because  we  had  no  kitten. 
Life  seemed  bright  to  me.  I  did  not 
even  mind  very  much  the  assembly  of 
five  boys  and  two  small  girls  who  care 
fully  watched  our  arrival  and  our 
alighting  at  the  door  of  the  Namasket 
House  late  that  afternoon.  Though  I 
heard  one  of  the  girls  say  that  she 
didn't  see  how  that  fat  one  ever  got  up 
there,  and  one  of  the  boys  reply  that 
he  s'posed  she  had  a  teakle  she  rigged 
every  time,  and  though  I  knew  that  the 
fat  one  meant  me,  I  was  still  happy. 
My  friends  don't  call  me  fat;  they  say 
I  am  just  plump  enough,  and  surely 
90 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

one's  friends  know  more  about  one 
than  a  few  children  gathered  about  a 
hotel  entrance. 

It  was  a  lovely  night,  clear  and  soft, 
and  there  was  a  moon. 

We  walked  out  to  see  the  "objects  of 
interest,"  but  we  found  nothing  more 
than  a  contented-looking  Massachusetts 
village  with  a  town  hall,  an  academy, 
and  factories  of  straw  goods,  and 
broadcloths,  and  shovels,  and  so  on. 
But  even  factories  with  straight  sides 
and  rows  and  rows  of  windows  will 
have  a  kind  of  a  look  when  seen  on  a 
summer  evening  with  the  moon  shin 
ing  on  them,  and  with  the  scent  of  roses 
and  mignonette  in  the  air.  Such 
scents  have  a  way  of  making  me  senti 
mental,  and  I  am  inclined  to  quote 
something  from  "Lucille,"  but  Ama 
bel  doesn't  like  "Lucille,"  and  scoffs 
at  it;  but  she  needn't,  for  she  is  liable 
to  be  sentimental  herself.  I  suppose 
we  all  are  subject  to  that  liability,  only 
it  requires  different  exciting  causes. 
91 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

We  had  turned  into  a  street  where 
were  several  large  houses  with  piazzas, 
and  towers,  and  shaven  lawns  sloping 
down  to  the  road.  It  was  here,  evi 
dently,  that  the  owners  of  those  shovel 
factories  and  shoe  shops  live  in  a  kind 
of  state,  as  being  the  most  forehanded 
people  in  the  town.  Their  daughters 
went  to  Wellesley,  and  their  sons  to 
Harvard ;  later  they  married,  and  then 
used  their  education  mainly  as  a 
background  upon  which  to  project 
references  to  the  time  "when  I 
was  at  Wellesley,"  or  "when  I  was 
a  soph  I  used  to  be  the  greenest 
thing  you  ever  saw."  But  this  is 
pessimistic. 

Turning  a  corner  we  came  suddenly 
upon  grounds  lighted  by  Chinese 
lanterns,  under  which  moved  fair 
women  and  brave  men.  Tables  were 
spread,  an  orchestra  began  to  saw  and 
toot,  men  went  about  with  teacups  and 
cake  and  icecream,  serving  women  who 
chattered  and  laughed,  and  uttered 
92 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

shrill  little  exclamations,  and  rounded 
their  eyes  for  emphasis. 

"I  rather  think  that  this  is  the  lawn 
party  at  General  Jones's,"  remarked 
Amabel,  and  even  as  she  spoke  some 
one  near  exclaimed: 

"Oh,  ain't  it  funny?  It's  you,  ain't 
it?  Oh,  Sue,  just  come  here!" 

It  was  Miss  Langthorne,  radiant  in 
pink  silk,  and  chiffons,  and  things,  that 
went  far  toward  giving  her  the  sem 
blance  of  an  angel  beneath  this  moon 
and  these  Chinese  lanterns.  But  per 
haps  angels  do  not  talk  like  that.  We  do 
not  know  precisely  how  angels  do  talk. 

It  was  evidently  expected  of  us  that 
we  should  pause  in  our  walk,  so  we 
paused  close  to  the  picket  fence  that 
separated  us  from  this  paradise. 

Miss  Cummings  came  forward  from  a 
group  of  men  and  women.  She  was 
followed  by  a  tall  figure  in  immaculate 
evening  dress  with  a  white  rose  in  his 
button-hole  and  an  expanse  of  shirt 
front  that  was  bewildering. 
93 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Here  Amabel  violently  nudged  me. 
Having  been  nudged,  I  looked  still 
more  closely  at  this  tall  young  man, 
and  I  recognized  Mr.  Thomas  J.  Riddle 
— he  of  the  sweater  and  the  bicycle. 

"Oh,  if  I'd  only  thought,  I  could 
have  got  you  two  an  invitation  just  as 
well  as  not,"  now  said  Miss  Lang- 
thorne.  "The  General  would  have 
asked  you,  wouldn't  you,  General 
Jones?  Oh,  do  come  here  a  minute!" 
beckoning  with  her  fan  to  a  fat  man 
with  a  bald  head  and  a  large,  round, 
white  waistcoat. 

"It's  no  matter,"  responded  Amabel, 
hurriedly,  "we  couldn't  have  come." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  could;  because,  you 
see,  you  have  come.  Here,  General 
Jones,  here  are  the  ladies  I  was  telling 
about — the  kitten,  you  know — ain't  it 
funny?  Let  me  present  you  to — to — " 

Amabel  pronounced  our  names  in  a 
distinct,  cold  voice  that  would  have 
rebuffed  a  person  unlike  this  person. 

General  Jones  put  out  his  hand  in  a 

94 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

cordial  way,  and  we  shook  hands  over 
the  fence. 

"Come  in,  now,  can't  you?"  he  said. 
"Come  in  and  have  a  bite  of  cake — 
there's  lots  of  it  —  and  icecream. 
Ladies  always  like  icecream.  Here, 
mother,"  turning  toward  a  small 
woman  in  black  silk  who  was  hovering 
over  the  nearest  table,  "come  here  and 
ask  these  ladies  in.  Lily  Langthorne 
was  telling  about  them,  you  know." 

The  person  addressed  came  primly 
forward.  She  was  younger  than  Gen 
eral  Jones  by  a  good  many  years,  and 
was  probably  not  his  mother,  but  his 
wife. 

"We  shall  be  very  happy  to "  she 

began,  but  Lily  Langthorne  broke  in 
with  her  shrill : 

"Oh,  didn't  I  tell  you?  Now  come! 
You  don't  know  how  good  the  coffee 
is.  Nobody  knows  till  they've  tasted 
it.  Mr.  Riddle,  go,  please,  and  bring 
some  coffee  and  some  grub." 

As  the  young  man  turned  away  Miss 
95 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Langthorne  leaned  on  the  fence  close 
to  me  and  whispered : 

"You  see,  it's  painted  out." 

I  stared. 

"Why,  the  scratch,  you  know — the 
kitten." 

I  didn't  stay  to  make  any  response. 
We  both  turned  away.  We  expressed 
thanks.  Then  we  hastened;  General 
Jones's  big,  jovial  voice  called  after  us, 
but  we  did  not  obey.  I  glanced  back 
when  we  reached  the  corner.  I  saw 
Mr.  Riddle  standing  in  front  of  Miss 
Langthorne  with  a  tray.  They  were 
both  laughing. 

We  refrained  from  making  any 
remarks.  Indeed,  our  silence  was 
somewhat  somber.  It  seemed  quite 
dark  after  we  had  left  the  lanterns  and 
the  bulbs  holding  electric  lights  that 
hung  over  the  tables,  and  quite  melan 
choly  when  we  could  not  hear  Miss 
Langthorne's  voice — for  there  were 
portions  of  the  village  where  this  voice 
did  not  penetrate. 

96 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

I  was  wondering  how  Thomas  J. 
Riddle  came  to  be  at  the  lawn  party. 
After  a  time  Amabel  confessed  that  she 
was  wondering  about  the  same  thing. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  as  well  to  state 
just  here  that  part  of  the  plot  of  this 
narrative  is  this:  How  came  Thomas  J. 
Riddle  at  General  Jones's  lawn  party? 
When  this  is  divulged  the  rest  of  the 
plot  will  be  even  more  of  a  skeleton 
than  it  is  now.  And  for  the  benefit  of 
those  who  are  always  sniffing  about  for 
love  stories,  there  is  going  to  be  just 
the  least  bit  of  a  love  story  in  this,  just 
enough  to  save  it;  a  proposal  and — 
well,  either  an  acceptance  or  rejection, 
I'm  not  going  to  say  which  now. 

When  Amabel  and  I  had  reached 
the  vicinity  of  the  hotel  we  began  to 
loiter  again.  It  was  really  too  pleasant 
to  go  indoors.  We  sat  down  on  some 
chairs  that  were  near  the  ladies' 
entrance.  Having  seated  ourselves, 
we  became  aware  that  a  half-dozen 
boys  on  wheels  were  coming  up  the 
97 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

road.  A  lady  dozing  in  a  rocker  near 
us  now  roused  and  said  that  she  was 
waiting  for  her  Charlie  to  come  home. 
She  wanted  to  go  to  bed,  but  as  long  as 
her  Charlie  was  out  on  his  bicycle  she 
couldn't  sleep  a  wink  for  thinking  of  all 
the  bones  he  might  break. 

The  next  moment  one  figure  had 
detached  itself  from  the  wheelers  and 
came  dashing  up  to  us  at  a  great  rate. 

"Whoop!  whoop!  whoa — there,  now, 
steady!" 

The  rider  flung  himself  off  so  near 
Amabel  that  she  nearly  fell  from  her 
chair. 

Of  course  we  had  thought  it  was 
Charlie,  but  it  wasn't;  it  was  Albert. 

We  rose  and  exclaimed.  The  youth 
stood  before  us  quite  self-possessed, 
and  much  pleased  with  the  effect  his 
appearance  had  produced  upon  us.  We 
both  cried:  "Why,  Albert!"  and  he 
nodded  and  said,  "Yours  truly. "  Then 
he  announced  that  he  was  hungry 
enough  to  eat  cold  wheel  grease,  and 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

he  inquired  if  the  fodder  was  good  at 
the  Namasket.  Then  he  took  his 
wheel  into  the  hall,  and  we  went  into 
the  dining-room  and  sat  with  him 
until  eggs  and  ham  were  fried,  beef 
steak  broiled  and  coffee  made;  even 
until  he  had  eaten  and  drank  we  re 
mained. 

He  informed  us  that  we  had  been 
fools  to  get  horses  when  we  could  have 
wheels ;  that  he  had  given  up  buying  a 
horse  when  he  saw  what  critters  they 
had  at  Izzard's;  that  he  had  meant  all 
the  time  to  come  with  us,  but  he  knew 
we  should  need  a  long  start  ahead, 
being  only  on  horses.  And  "I  say, 
Am,  have  you  had  to  use  the  bowie- 
knife  yet?  Awful  convenient,  ain't  it? 
I've  got  a  dirk — best  thing  out.  Got 
it  at  that  Jap  store  on  Summer  Street, 
you  know." 

The  youth  leaned  back  in  his  chair 

and   stirred   the  spoon    rapidly  in  his 

second    cup   of    coffee.      He    was  not 

hungry  now,  and  was  disposed  to  be 

99 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

good  natured  and  communicative, 
after  the  manner  of  the  human  animal 
when  its  appetite  for  food  has  just  been 
appeased. 

"There  is  no  reason  why  you 
shouldn't  carry  a  dirk,  Albert,"  said 
Amabel,  judicially,  "except  that,  being 
on  a  wheel,  you  may  fall  on  it — the 
dirk,  I  mean ;  and  though  you  are  only 
a  boy,  I'm  fond  of  you. " 

"Pooh!  So's  a  hen,"  responded 
Albert.  Then  he  leaned  back  in  his 
chair,  put  his  right  hand  to  his  belt, 
straightened  his  right  leg  and  instantly 
whipped  out  from  somewhere  a 
weapon  more  than  a  foot  long.  This 
he  whirled  in  the  air  and  then  made  a 
lunge  with  it  in  a  very  unexpected 
manner  toward  the  girl  who  had  been 
waiting  on  the  table,  and  who  now 
shrieked  and  laughed,  but  returned 
from  her  retreat  toward  the  door  and 
took  the  beefsteak  platter,  lingering 
with  it. 

"Albert,"   said  his    sister,   "it  isn't 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

very  nice  of  you  to  go  round  with  a 
thing  like  that." 

"Who's  afraid?"  cried  the  boy,  and 
he  lunged  again,  this  time  at  a  potato, 
which  he  speared  up  on  the  point  of  his 
weapon. 

Please  remember  that  there  was  no 
one  in  the  dining-room  save  ourselves 
and  the  waiter  girl. 

Amabel  left  her  chair  and  took  the 
dirk.  She  examined  it,  and  then 
announced  that  it  was  not,  in  her 
opinion,  a  Japanese  dirk,  but  a  Chinese 
hari-kari  knife,  and  she  believed  that 
it  would  bring  bad  luck  to  have  it 
along.  She  carefully  returned  the 
potato  to  its  place  and  said  that  she 
should  not  have  an  instant's  peace  if 
her  brother  continued  to  carry  that 
dreadful  thing  in  his  clothing.  Where 
upon  Albert  wrathfully  snatched  the 
dirk  from  her  and  replaced  it  in  the 
mysterious  receptacle  from  which  he 
had  drawn  it.  He  said  that  he'd  just 
as  lief  have  it  a  hari-kari  as  a  dirk,  and, 

101 


SAND    'N'     BUSHES 

for  his  part,  he  wasn't  going  to  travel 
without  something. 

"Why  travel?"  innocently  inquired 
Amabel. 

And  Albert  rose  and  slammed  out  of 
the  room.  The  waiter  girl,  having 
seen  and  heard  all,  bore  away  the  beef 
steak  platter.  Then  we  also  left  the 
room.  It  was  ten  o'clock  by  this  time. 
A  just  pride  prevented  Amabel  from 
trying  to  find  her  brother,  and  we  saw 
him  no  more  that  night.  If  you  are 
taking  a  horseback  trip  in  early  sum 
mer  it  is  a  fine  plan  to  start  betimes  in 
the  morning.  Then  you  will  see  the 
robin  flying  back  to  his  nest  with  the 
early  worm  dangling  from  his  bill ;  or 
you  will  see  him  standing  erect  and 
exultant  on  the  top  rail  of  the  fence 
singing  lustily.  He  has  been  up  for 
several  hours,  for  the  long  day  began 
while  you  were  yet  asleep;  still  it  is 
not  late. 

The  poets  have  written  a  good  deal 
about  the  glory  and  the  freshness  of 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

these  first  hours,  and,  as  usual,  the 
poets  are  right. 

I  like  these  low  New  England  hills, 
where  there  is  scanty  grass,  and  where 
there  is  a  fine  crop  of  gray  moss.  That 
gray  moss  is  good  kindling;  gather  it 
in  midsummer  and  see  how  like  dry 
tow  it  flares  up  when  a  match  is  put  to 
it.  And  if  above  it  you  have  artfully 
arranged  a  few  cones  from  the  white 
pine,  cones  from  which  drops  of  pitch 
have  oozed  and  hardened,  then  I  envy 
you  as  you  sit  by  the  open  hearth  in 
the  old  house  and  see  the  flames  curl 
quickly  around  the  cones,  each  drop  of 
pitch  sending  out  its  own  tongue  of 
flame,  the  aromatic  odor  being  strong 
in  the  room. 

It  was  such  a  fire  on  a  broad  old 
hearth  that  I  was  thinking  of  when  my 
friend  and  I  cantered  out  of  Middlebor- 
ough  village  and  saw  the  unfruitful, 
hilly  pastures  where  the  sweet  fern  and 
bay-berry  grew,  and  the  savins.  The 
bits  of  song  sparrows  like  to  perch  on  the 
103 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

top  twigs  of  the  savins  and  sing  their 
little  hearts  out  to  the  beautiful  day,  or 
that  is  what  they  seem  to  be  doing. 
Perhaps  they  care  nothing  for  the 
beautiful  day,  but  it  is  rather  pleasant 
to  think  that  they  do. 

As  we  rode  on  Amabel  expressed  her 
gratitude  to  a  kind  Providence  which 
had  refrained  from  making  her  a  scien 
tific  person,  who  could  see  nothing  in 
nature  save  a  continual  warfare  and 
the  everlasting  perishing  of  the  weak. 
Albert,  who  had  recovered  his  good 
nature,  and  who  still  wore  his  dirk, 
remarked  in  response  that  that  was 
just  like  a  woman;  a  woman  didn't 
want  to  know  the  real  truth;  she 
wanted  things  glossed  over.  All  the 
same,  that  robin  snapped  up  a  worm, 
and  everything  was  snapping  up  every 
thing  else  all  the  time,  and  his  pro 
fessor  said  that- 

" Albert, "  interrupted  his  sister,  "I 
don't  wish  to  hear  what  your  professor 
says.  He,  and  persons  like  him,  have 
104 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

found  out  more  things  which  kill  other 
things " 

I  don't  know  how  long  Amabel 
would  have  gone  on  in  this  way  had 
not  Albert  asked  her  why  she  liked 
those  cunning  little  quails  on  toast,  and 
what  was  the  use  of  talking  like  that 
when  you  were  doing  the  same  thing 
yourself  all  the  time. 

Then  Amabel  fell  silent,  and  was 
gloomy  for  some  minutes ;  and  Albert 
chuckled  and  was  cheerful.  He  chose 
to  run  his  wheel  on  a  narrow  strip  of 
the  road  that  had  been  hardened  by 
other  wheels.  This  strip  was  near  the 
side,  and  left  plenty  of  room  for  our 
two  horses,  if  the  horses  had  only 
thought  so. 

The  Thane  immediately  and  decid 
edly  refused  to  travel  on  the  side  nearest 
to  Albert;  he  even  manifested  a  desire 
to  back  around  and  kick  at  the  wheel, 
and  when  I  remonstrated  and  tried  to 
reason  with  him  he  stood  still.  At  my 
urgent  request  my  two  traveling  com- 
105 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

panions  went  on  ahead,  and  after  a 
short  time  I  followed.  In  this  way  we 
journeyed  nearly  the  whole  of  the  dis 
tance  from  Middleborough  to  Monu 
ment.  I  was  practically  in  solitude,  but 
I  had  the  benefit  of  the  dust  started  by 
Albert's  wheel,  and  the  feet  of  Ama 
bel's  horse;  by  this  means  I  knew  that 
I  was  not  alone. 

I  had  plenty  of  time  to  remember 
that  "the  Cape  extends  east  from 
Sandwich  thirty-five  miles,  and  thence 
north  and  northwest  thirty  more,  in  all 
sixty-five,  and  has  an  average  breadth 
of  five  miles.  It  is  nearly  all  sand, 
with  bowlders  dropped  on  it  here  and 
there. "  And  we  were  not  yet  at  Monu 
ment.  Amabel  was  continually  stop 
ping  for  me  to  come  up,  and  then 
telling  me  that  her  conscience  troubled 
her  to  have  me  behind  in  that  way. 
We  tried  again  to  make  The  Thane  go 
on  the  other  side  of  Amabel's  horse, 
and  so  allow  Amabel  to  ride  nearest 
the  wheel,  but  for  some  unexplainable 
1 06 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

reason  from  the  first  The  Thane  had 
refused  to  do  this.  He  acted  as  if  he 
were  insulted.  He  planted  his  feet 
with  his  legs  slanting  outward,  tossed 
his  head  and  rolled  his  eyes. 

This  he  had  done  almost  immediately 
after  we  had  started  from  home,  but 
he  had  directly  become  amiable  when 
I  had  turned  him  to  the  off  side.  I 
have  hated  to  mention  this  concerning 
The  Thane,  for  he  is  an  excellent 
horse,  and  worth  twice  what  I  paid  for 
him. 

I  acknowledge,  however,  that  if  he 
were  not  so  pronounced  in  his  char 
acter,  things  would  be  somewhat  easier 
on  this  journey.  But  I  didn't  pur 
chase  him  thinking  to  travel  with  a 
wheel. 

Amabel's  horse  likes  to  go  beside 
the  bicycle;  it  will  even  "nicker"  for 
it  when  the  bicycle  has  gone  on  in 
advance,  and  it  dislikes  to  turn  back 
and  come  toward  me.  Perhaps  it  will 
at  last  decide  that  it  will  not  come 
107 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

back.  In  that  case  my  ride  will  not  be 
in  the  least  what  I  had  planned.  But 
few  things  turn  out  to  be  what  one 
plans — if  that  is  any  comfort. 

We  had  our  lunch  with  us,  and  just 
at  the  edge  of  Monument  Albert  came 
wheeling  back  to  'me  to  say  that  they 
had  selected  a  place  to  rest  under  some 
trees,  and  that  we  could  eat  our  sand 
wiches  there.  We  had  thoughtfully 
provided  oats  for  our  horses,  Amabel 
and  I,  and  we  had  put  them  in  the 
shorts  bag,  erstwhile  occupied  by  the 
kitten.  So  we  unbridled  and  sat  us 
down  to  rest  under  the  trees,  and  when 
it  was  time  we  poured  in  front  of  each 
horse  his  little  pile  of  oats,  and  The 
Thane  fell  upon  his  provender  as  he 
ought,  and  devoured  it,  even  into  the 
very  loam  beneath  it;  but  Amabel's 
horse  snorted  and  backed,  as  if  oats 
upon  the  ground  were  a  fearful  sight 
not  to  be  endured.  So  we  took  him 
away  and  painfully  and  economically 
scraped  up  the  grain  and  put  it  back 
108 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

into  the  shorts  bag  for  another  time. 
And  our  noon  resting  hour  was  ruined 
by  the  unreasonableness  of  Amabel's 
horse.  This  was  one  of  the  times  when 
Albert  did  not  feel  moved  to  be  useful. 
He  sat  on  the  ground  eating  sand 
wiches,  while  he  watched  us  groveling 
with  the  oats.  All  he  did  in  the  matter 
was  to  remark  that  if  we  had  known 
anything  we  should  have  brought  a 
folding  rubber  horse  manger,  and  he 
proceeded  to  explain  how  such  an 
article  could  have  been  strapped  on 
behind.  We  made  a  great  effort  not 
to  listen  to  him,  for  if  we  listened  we 
felt  that  we  should  be  angered  and 
forget  ourselves,  and  then  we  should 
have  to  repent. 

Panting  and  red  in  the  face  we  at 
last  returned  to  the  positions  we  had 
chosen  to  rest  in.  We  wished  that  we 
had  something  to  read.  We  had  called 
at  one  news-room  in  Middleborough  and 
asked  for  "The  Atlantic"  and  the  last 
Sunday  Tribune,  and  had  been  told  by 
109 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

a  girl  with  an  immense  false  frizz  on 
her  forehead  that  "they  didn't  run  any 
of  them  extries. ' '  What  they  did  run 
was  what  we  couldn't  possibly  read,  so 
we  bought  some  molasses  kisses — 
"velvet  kisses"  was  the  technical  name 
— and  came  away.  We  had  the  velvet 
kisses  in  a  striped  paper  package  now 
with  us  and  we  ate  them  as  dessert  for 
lunch. 

Meanwhile,  Amabel  began  to  worry 
because  her  horse  had  had  no  dinner, 
and  a  cloud  came  up  in  the  west,  a 
cloud  that  grew  purple-black  and  spread 
itself  rapidly  over  the  western  heavens, 
and  we  became  alarmed  and  hurriedly 
mounted  and  galloped  hard  onward 
toward  the  village  of  Monument,  and 
the  cloud  seemed  to  pursue  us,  emit 
ting  thunder  and  lightning  from  its 
bosom. 

There  was,  however,  something  in 
spiring  in  that  gallop,  and  for  near  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  we  kept  ahead. 
The  Thane  forgot  for  the  time  his 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

objection  to  going  on  the  nigh  side 
of  Amabel's  horse,  so  we  were  mak 
ing  our  escape  harmoniously,  three 
abreast,  along  the  lonely  country  road. 

Even  at  such  a  moment  I  could 
admire  Albert's  skill  in  getting  over  the 
way,  which  was  none  too  smooth.  He 
just  threw  himself  down  on  his  ma 
chine  and,  as  he  afterward  explained, 
"raised  up  his  muscle  for  all  he  was 
worth." 

We  at  last  heard  the  rain  hissing 
behind  us.  It  was  like  a  wall  sliding 
along,  one  of  those  summer  down 
pours  that  drench  one  in  a  moment, 
and  we  were  drenched. 


V 


AMABEL    AS    A    REFORMER 

It  was  thus  that  we  entered  Monu 
ment,  dripping,  a  stream  running  from 
each  horse.  And  then  it  stopped  rain 
ing,  and  the  sky  was  blue,  and  the  sun 
shone,  and  people  came  to  their  open 
doors  and  looked  at  us;  and  they 
smiled.  A  person  who  has  not  been 
out  in  a  shower,  and  is  perfectly  dry, 
can  afford  to  smile  at  the  spectacle  we 
presented. 

Albert  was  now  walking  by  his 
wheel,  which  was,  so  to  speak,  feath 
ered  all  over  with  wet  dust. 

Amabel  remarked  that  she  had  never 
known  before  what  it  was  to  be 
clammy.  But  she  made  an  effort  to  be 
cheerful,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  say 
that  she  was  not  sorry  she  came.  "In 
113 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

fact,"  with  increasing  bravado,  "I'm 
glad."  Albert  glanced  scornfully  at 
her,  as  he  said  that  so  was  a  hen. 
Then  he  glanced  at  a  man  in  his  shirt 
sleeves,  who  was  smoking  in  an  open 
doorway,  and  asked  if  this  was  Monu 
ment.  The  man  regarded  us  with  im 
mense  satisfaction.  He  sauntered  out 
into  the  yard  and  took  his  pipe  from 
his  mouth,  grinned,  and  inquired  if  we 
had  been  far. 

"Middleborough,"  said  Amabel,  hur 
riedly,  fearing,  as  she  afterwards  told 
me,  that  her  brother  would  make  his 
reference  to  the  hen. 

"Got  caught,  didn't  ye?"  asked  the 
man. 

"Caught?" 

"Yes,  in  the  shower." 

"Yes,  we  did  get  caught.  Is  this 
Monument?" 

"It's  Monument  Beach,"  with  a  great 
emphasis  on  the  word  Beach.  "Mebby 
you  own  one  of  them  cottages  down 
there?" 

114 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"No,  we  don't." 

Amabel's  teeth  began  to  chatter. 
Mine  had  begun  a  few  moments  earlier. 

"What  town  is  this,  anyway?"  in 
quired  Albert. 

"It's  Bourne." 

"Isn't  there  any  Monument?" 

"This  is  Monument.  Mebby  you're 
after  Pocasset,  or  Cataumet,  or  Wenau- 
met,  or  some  of  them?" 

"No,  no,"  despairingly  from  Ama 
bel,  "we  were  after  Monument,  but 
we  don't  care  now,  all  we  want  is  to 
get  to  a  hotel. " 

"Oh,  you  want  a  hotel?  Mebby 
you've  got  cranberry  bogs  down 
here?" 

"No.     Where  is  the  hotel?" 

"Wall,  the  hotels  round  here  mostly 
are  shet. " 

"What,  shut  up?"  more  despairingly. 

"Ain't  been  opened  yet,  much.  You 
see,  it's  rather  early — though  they  be 
open,  some.  Ain't  no  rush  yet.  They 
open  earlier  'n  they  used  to. ' ' 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Amabel  disengaged  a  wet,  sticky  foot 
from  the  wet,  sticky  slipper  of  her 
stirrup;  then  she  dismounted.  I  did 
the  same. 

"We  will  walk,  and  lead  our  horses," 
she  said.  "Albert,  you  find  out  where 
there's  a  hotel  that  is  open  just  enough 
for  us  to  get  into  it.  We  don't  want  it 
open  any  more  than  that.  And  it 
seems  to  me  we  ought  never  to  have 
come  down  here  to  Bourne,  or  Wenau- 
met,  or  Cataumet,  or  any  of  these 
places.  We  ought  to  have  gone  on  to 
Sandwich. ' ' 

Here  Amabel  looked  at  me  as  if  I 
were  responsible  for  this  mistake  in 
our  route.  She  walked  on,  leading  her 
horse,  and  I  walked  on  leading  mine. 
It  was  a  great  relief  to  walk,  and  we 
went  faster  and  faster,  while  Albert 
remained  behind  to  wring  some  infor 
mation  from  that  man,  if  it  were  pos 
sible. 

The  sun  was  now  shining  hotly.  We 
began  to  steam  in  its  rays.  We  had 
116 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

eschewed  skirts  long  enough  to  inter 
fere  with  walking,  so  that  we  got  on 
very  well,  splashing  through  the  pud 
dles  recklessly. 

A  soft,  southwest  wind  came  from 
Buzzard's  Bay,  bringing  the  delightful 
salt  odor.  How  the  whole  world  glit 
tered!  How  the  birds  sang!  All  at 
once  the  road  curved,  and  we  saw  the 
bay  shining  before  us,  heaving  with  the 
pulse  of  the  ocean.  We  stopped  to  look. 

"Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you,  Ama 
bel,"  I  began,  timidly,  "that  perhaps, 
just  possibly,  you  know,  we  might 
better  have  come  down  here  in  the 
steam-cars,  or  by  boat?" 

"Never!"  said  Amabel,  promptly. 

"I  know  it  is  romantic  to  ride 
through  the  country  on  horseback,"  I 
went  on,  "and  if  only  one  were  water 
proof " 

"Pshaw!"  she  interrupted.  "If  one 
were  never  soaked  one  would  never 
know  the  joy  of  being  dried  by  a  sun 
like  this." 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

And  I  said  no  more.  I  had  often 
seen  wet  clothes  spread  on  a  horse 
before  a  kitchen  fire,  and  noted  the 
steam  arising  from  them,  but  I  had 
never  before  known  how  clothes  felt 
under  such  circumstances. 

"I  wish,"  said  I,  by  way  of  beguiling 
time  until  Albert  should  rejoin  us,  "I 
wish  I  could  make  some  poetry.  If  I 
could  find  a  rhyme  to  humid,  I  might 
get  on  finely." 

"There's  tumid,"  suggested  Amabel. 

But  I  knew  that  would  never  do; 
and  all  at  once  I  was  seized  with  a 
doubt  as  to  whether  there  was  such  a 
word  as  tumid.  Were  you  ever 
afflicted  in  that  way?  Did  you  ever 
have  some  word  suddenly  seem  utterly 
preposterous,  and  as  if  it  had  never 
existed — some  everyday  little  collection 
of  a  few  individuals  of  the  alphabet — 
and  you  say  it  over  and  over  to  your 
self  until  you  begin  to  fear  there  is 
something  the  matter  with  the  brain? 
Don't  fear,  however;  there  is  nothing 

118 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

wrong;  you  are  simply  suffering  in 
common  with  the  other  great  minds  of 
the  world. 

Did  not  even  Dr.  Johnson,  sir,  re 
trace  his  step  to  touch  with  his  cane  a 
post  that  he  had  missed  touching? 
That  small  deed  of  the  great  man  was 
always  of  much  comfort  to  me,  because 
sometimes  I,  with  my  inferior  equip 
ment,  have  gone  back  so  that  I  might 
put  my  right  foot  first  in  mounting  a 
flight  of  stairs,  and  there's  a  wooden 
button  on  the  cellar  door  in  the  old 
house  at  home  that  I  was  often  im 
pelled  to  place  my  finger  on  as  I  went 
by  it — impelled  by  a  nebulous  kind  of 
conviction  that  things  in  general 
would  go  better  if  I  did  so.  I  wonder 
what  kind  of  tracks  are  made  in  the 
brain  gray  matter  by  the  forming  of 
such  habits. 

All  this,  however,  has  nothing  to  do 

with  the  melancholy  fact  that  we  two 

drenched     women    were    leading    our 

horses   along    the    wet     road    of    this 

119 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

hamlet  on  the  shore  of  Buzzard's 
Bay. 

But  we  were  fast  becoming  less  wet. 
Our  horses  were  already  dry;  their 
bridles  were  changing  from  an  unsatis 
factory  pulpy  substance  to  an  equally 
unsatisfactory  stiff  substance. 

The  Thane  was  greatly  interested  in 
the  view  of  the  bay.  He  reared  his 
head  and  dilated  his  nostrils;  for  a 
moment  he  presented  the  appearance 
of  a  charger,  and  I  was  proud  of  him. 
We  saw,  toward  the  water,  some  of  the 
gaily  painted  cottages  belonging  to  the 
summer  people.  There  were  figures 
on  a  few  of  the  piazzas.  Such  people 
look  as  if  they  must  be  perfectly 
happy,  and  it  is  something  to  give  that 
impression.  The  country  about  us  was 
not  level;  there  were  slightly  rolling 
hills  in  it,  charming  hills  which  now 
sparkled  gaily. 

But  where  was  Albert?  And  what 
were  we  going  to  do?  It  would  be  a 
good  thing  to  mount  now,  if  we  had 
120 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

given  up  our  hope  for  a  hotel.  We 
remembered  the  compact  of  the  Water 
ing  Trough,  and  it  was  my  turn  to 
hold  Amabel's  steed  for  her  to  mount 
if  we  could  find  a  fence.  We  had 
made  Albert  useful  in  this  way  since 
he  had  joined  us;  but  it  is  astonishing 
how  a  boy  is  never  at  hand  when  he 
might  be  useful.  There  was  a  fence 
handy.  I  would  advise  women  who  are 
contemplating  a  horseback  trip  to 
choose  for  their  journey  a  country 
abounding  in  fences;  that  is,  if  they 
are  not  heroines  and  consequently  can 
not  mount  in  a  heroine-like  way  from 
the  ground,  or  if  they  have  not  men 
accompanying  them.  It  is  of  vital 
importance — to  have  fences. 

We  were  not  more  than  half  a  mile 
from  the  settlement  of  Monument 
when  a  cheery  bell  tinkled  behind  us 
and  Albert  came  rolling  up. 

"How'd  you  get  on?"  he  asked. 

"No  matter.     Where's  the  hotel?" 

"I  guess,"   said  Albert,  with  much 

121 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

astuteness  of  manner,  "that  we'd 
better  jog  right  along  to  Sandwich, 
where  we  ought  to  have  gone  instead 
of  shying  off  down  here." 

And  here  the  boy  glanced  at  me  as 
Amabel  had  done,  as  if  I  were  to 
blame  for  our  coming  to  Bourne. 

"Let  us  jog,  then,"  responded 
Amabel. 

And  we  went  on.  The  sun  had  gone 
under  a  floating  cloud,  but  there  was 
sunlight  ahead,  covering  the  "gentle 
dimplement"  of  the  pastures,  and 
bringing  out  odors  of  sweetbrier  and 
clover. 

Presently  Albert  began  to  chuckle. 
On  being  looked  at  interrogatively,  he 
explained  that  he  was  laughing  because 
that  man  back  there  had  asked  him  if 
"them  women  owned  them  horses; 
and  how  much  had  they  paid  for  'em." 

"I  told  him,"  went  on  Albert,  "that 
you  owned  'em,  fast  enough." 

"What  did  he  say  then?"  inquired 
Amabel. 

122 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"He  didn't  say  a  word;  he  laughed 
so  he  couldn't." 

And  then  the  boy  continued  his  own 
laughter  in  such  a  way  that  it  was 
difficult  for  his  companions  to  wear 
the  semblance  of  amiability. 

After  a  time  Albert  informed  us  that 
the  man  had  wished  to  know  if  we 
were  circus  riders.  "He  wanted  to 
find  out,"  said  Albert,  "if  you  had 
ever  jumped  through  hoops." 

"He's  a  fool!"  cried  Amabel. 

"Oh,  no,  he  ain't,  not  by  a  long 
chalk,"  was  the  response;  "he's  one  of 
the  brightest  men  I  ever  saw." 

Then  we  felt  to  wish  that  Albert 
Waldo  had  never  joined  us  in  our  trip 
to  the  Cape. 

Sandwich  was  about  ten  miles  away, 
and  the  road  was  rather  heavy.  We 
never  knew  whether  it  was  because  the 
road  was  too  sandy  or  not  sandy 
enough,  or  for  some  other  reason,  that 
when  we  had  traveled  about  three 
miles  from  Monument  Beach,  in  a 
123 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

secluded  spot,  Amabel's  horse  again 
showed  unmistakable  symptoms  of  an 
intention  to  lie  down.  The  first  time 
he  had  done  this  he  had  had  Aunt 
Ma'ly's  kitten  fastened  to  him,  but  now 
we  were  bewildered.  He  had  stopped 
suddenly  and  begun  to  paw.  On  this 
occasion  Amabel  did  not  dismount  so 
skillfully ;  the  skirt  of  her  gown  caught 
on  the  horn — there  was  the  sound  of 
rending. 

I  must  confess  that  Albert  behaved 
very  well  now.  He  jumped  off  his 
wheel  and  caught  the  bridle.  Some 
times  Albert  is  a  good  boy.  He  was 
now  calm  and  effective.  He  snatched 
the  rest  of  the  skirt  form  the  horn ;  he 
said  a  short  word  of  a  good  deal  of 
emphasis,  but  who  could  blame  him? 
He  held  the  horse  while  Amabel  looked 
down  at  her  skirt  and  shook  it. 

Rather  unexpectedly  her  first  remark 
was — 

"Now  I  am  convinced." 

"That  you'd  no  business  to  go  to  an 
124 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

auction  and  buy  a  horse?"  responded 
Albert,  quickly. 

"No,  indeed!"  rather  sharply. 
"Nothing  of  the  sort.  My  horse  is  a 
fine  animal.  I  got  him  dirt  cheap. 
He  is  worth  three  times  as  much  as  I 
paid  for  him." 

Then  Albert  said,  "So's  a  hen,"  and 
the  conversation  languished.  We  all 
moved  on  slowly,  Amabel  holding  up 
the  cloth  that  had  been  rent  from  its 
fastening  to  the  waist;  Albert  having 
one  hand  on  the  bridle  and  the  other 
propelling  his  wheel;  I  sitting  in  my 
saddle  trying  to  control  my  thoughts. 
I  had  a  lurking  fear  of  what  my  friend 
had  in  mind.  At  last  I  asked  her  what 
she  had  meant  by  saying  that  she  was 
convinced. 

"I  should  think  you'd  know,"  she 
answered.  "It  is  absurd  to  try  to  ride 
a  side-saddle;  it  is  wicked.  I'm  going 
to  make  a  change." 

"What!"  I  cried,  and  Albert  giggled. 

I  had  known  for  a  long  time  that  my 
125 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

friend  had  ideas  about  things,  but  it  is 
a  very  different  matter  to  have  ideas 
and  to  act  upon  them.  People  don't 
care  much  how  many  ideas  you  may 
cherish,  provided  you  behave  just  as  if 
you  were  not  cherishing  them. 

"Yes,"  went  on  Amabel,  "I'm  going 
to  have  a  cross-tree  saddle.  You  may 
not  care  if  I  do  endanger  my  life  every 
hour  of  the  day,  but  my  life  is  precious 
to  me." 

"I  wonder,"  burst  out  Albert,  "if 
you  think  having  a  cross-tree  will  stop 
this  horse  from  wanting  to  roll  when  he 
happens  to  want  to — just  tell  me  that!" 

"Albert,"  said  his  sister,  "do  you 
remember  saying  that  a  side-saddle  was 
enough  to  ruin  a  horse's  back?  Tell 
me  that." 

"Yes,"  hesitatingly,  "but  I  guess 
your  horse's  back  can  stand " 

"Albert,  you  needn't  go  on.  What 
do  you  think  I  contribute  to  the  Society 
for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Ani 
mals  for?  What " 

126 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Pooh!"  broke  in  the  boy,  "you 
needn't  try  to  cram  that  stuff  down  my 
neck;  it's  your  own  hide  you're  afraid 
of." 

"Afraid  for,"  I  corrected,  in  my  most 
amiable  manner.  "You  don't  believe 
that  your  sister  is  afraid  of  her  own 
hide?" 

"Bosh!"  said  Albert.  "I  know  I 
ain't  going  around  the  country  with  a 
woman  on  a  man's  saddle." 

"Nobody  asked  you,  sir,"  responded 
Amabel,  and  then  she  appeared  to  fall 
into  a  brown  study  which  was  not 
broken  by  my  pinning  the  rent  skirt 
into  position  as  well  as  I  could,  and 
even  after  she  was  mounted  again  she 
was  silent. 

I  watched  her  anxiously,  for  when 
my  friend  keeps  silence  in  that  way  I 
know  that  she  is  thinking  of  some 
thing.  Looking  at  her  thus,  furtively 
and  often,  I  suddenly  discovered  that 
the  button  her  father  had  fastened 
upon  her  jacket  was  gone,  the  white 
127 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

button  with  her  name  and  address.  I 
questioned  her  concerning  this.  She 
clapped  her  hand  up  to  her  lapel. 

"It's  lost,"  she  exclaimed. 

"No  matter,"  said  Albert,  "I  can 
identify  you." 

But  Amabel  did  not  smile.  She 
announced  that  that  little  stretch  of 
road  with  the  birches  where  her  horse 
had  thought  of  lying  down  should  be 
called  The  Place  of  the  Lost  Button, 
and  that  it  should  be  known  henceforth 
by  that  name.  This  seemed,  in  a 
manner,  Biblical,  and  as  if  we  might 
presently  meet  a  group  of  Arabs  and  ask 
them  where  was  the  nearest  well  of 
water.  I  began  to  fancy  that  Amabel 
might  have  begun  to  play  make- 
believe,  as  she  had  occasionally  threat 
ened  to  do.  Anything,  I  thought,  to 
get  her  mind  from  that  cross-tree 
saddle. 

We  all  pricked  forward  toward  Sand 
wich.  We  easily  enough  found  a  hotel 
there  that  was  not  shut.  We  ate  a 
128 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES' 

great  deal  of  supper  and  then  hastened 
to  our  room,  while  Albert  announced 
his  intention  of  viewing  the  town.  He 
said  he  meant  to  stay  long  enough  the 
next  day  to  see  them  blow  a  bird  of 
paradise  in  different  colored  glass;  he 
spoke  as  if  the  glass  works  in  Sandwich 
were  entirely  given  over  to  the  manu 
facture  of  birds  of  paradise;  as,  per 
haps,  they  are,  for  I  do  not  absolutely 
know  to  the  contrary.  I  am  not  going 
to  make  statements  for  which  I  cannot 
vouch.  My  first  aim  in  these  chron 
icles  is  strict  veracity. 

It  was  nearly  sunset  when  our  supper 
was  eaten.  I  thought  that  Amabel 
would  be  tired  and  stay  in  our  room, 
but  she  took  her  hat  and  stood  hesi 
tatingly  an  instant  with  it  in  her  hand. 
I  was  stretched  out  in  a  rocker;  it  was 
a  time  when,  if  I  had  been  a  man,  or 
what  is  almost  as  good,  a  new  woman, 
I  should  have  been  smoking. 

"Are  you  going  out?"  I  asked,  in 
surprise. 

129 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Yes,"  she  answered.  She  walked 
about  in  the  room.  She  paused  by  my 
chair;  she  leaned  over  and  kissed  me. 

"What!"  I  cried,  "aren't  you  ever 
coming  back?" 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,  in  a  very  little 
while ;  but  I —  do  you  care  the  least  in 
the  world  if  I  don't  ask  you  to  go  with 
me?" 

"Not  the  least,"  promptly. 

Amabel  looked  relieved.  She  has 
tened  from  the  room.  When  she  was 
half-way  down  the  stairs  I  went  to  the 
door  and  called  to  her. 

"You  know,  Amabel,"  I  said,  "when 
you  are  alone  you  are  liable  to  get 
into  some  kind  of  mischief.  Are  you 
going  to  see  the  birds  of  paradise?" 

"Oh,  no." 

She  went  on.  I  returned  to  my 
rocker  and  I  made  an  attempt  to  read 
the  Bible,  for  I  found  a  Bible  placed  in 
the  exact  center  of  an  oval  table  that 
stood  in  the  corner  of  the  room.  Over 
this  table  was  a  picture  of  Abraham 
130 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

offering  up  Isaac  as  a  sacrifice.  Isaac 
had  on  a  pink  frock,  cut  low  neck  and 
short  sleeves,  and  Abraham  wore  a 
purple  gown,  en  train.  In  the  middle 
distance  was  a  vivid  green  bush,  from 
which  protruded  the  horns  of  the 
otherwise  unseen  goat.  Amabel  had 
spoken  of  asking  the  authorities  of  the 
hotel  to  take  down  that  picture  during 
our  brief  stay,  on  the  ground  that  she 
sometimes  had  dyspepsia,  and  had  been 
ordered  not  to  do  anything  likely  to 
bring  on  an  attack.  This  was  our  only 
picture,  and  I  was  now  left  alone  with 
it.  But  I  never  had  dyspepsia. 

I  could  not  read  much  in  the  Bible, 
because  I  was  worrying  about  Ama 
bel.  Why  had  she  gone  out  alone? 

When  it  had  become  dusk  a  servant 
brought  me  a  kerosene  hand  lamp  and 
seven  matches.  This  made  it  seem 
late,  for  a  June  day  is  very  long.  I 
did  not  light  the  lamp.  I  sat  at  the 
open  window,  which  commanded  a 
view  of  the  main  street.  I  leaned  my 
131 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

arms  on  the  sill  and  watched  for  Ama 
bel.  The  place  was  very  quiet. 
People  sauntered  by  now  and  then.  A 
strident  voice  sometimes  rose  through 
the  sweet  air. 

"Jim  didn't  git  no  ketch  at  all  last 
time;  it  does  seem's  if  the  cod  jest 
knew  'twas  Jim,  'n'  wouldn't  bite." 

"I  s'pose  he  got  drunk." 

"No;  he's  sworn  off." 

Then  a  laugh,  and  the  two  men  had 
turned  into  another  street. 

"He's  had  to  lay  out  no  end  of 
money  on  his  bog,  ye  know.  I  d'know 
when  he'll  be  done  cartin'  sand  onto 
it." 

"One  thing,  there's  sand  'nough 
round  here  for  all  the  cranberry  bogs 
in  the  world — 'n'  glass,  too." 

"That's  so.  I  don't  s'pose  the  Lord 
ever  made  any  place  'thout  nothin'  in 
it." 

"I  guess  not/  D'  you  see  the 
folks  that  come  here  t'  the  hotel  to 
night?" 

132 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

One  of  the  men  was  leaning  against 
a  hitch-post  beneath  my  window.  The 
other  was  leaning  against  nothing;  he 
had  his  hands  deep  in  his  trousers 
pockets,  and  was  slouching  forward. 
The  light  hanging  in  front  of  the 
building  shone  on  them.  If  I  had 
seen  them  on  the  island  of  Sicily  I 
should  have  known  they  were  Yan 
kees. 

"No.     Who  be  they?" 

"Oh,  I  d'know.  Two  women;  'n'  a 
boy;  'n'  a  wheel;  'n'  two  horses. 
Women  on  the  horses.  I  call  home  the 
place  for  women;  if  home  ain't  the 
place  for  women  I  sh'd  jest  like  to 
know  where  the  place  is.  I  hate  to 
see  women  out  of  their  place.  If 
you've  got  a  place  I  say  you  had 
oughter  be  in  it,  else  what  in  thunder's 
the  use  of  havin'  a  place,  I  say?  I  tell 
my  wife  I ' ' 

"Sh!  I  guess  here's  one  of  um 
now." 

The   talking  had  been   so   near  me, 

133 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

and  so  distinct,  that  I  had  heard  every 
word.  It  now  ceased  suddenly.  The 
men  immediately  looked  as  if  they 
could  not  speak,  but  could  only 
gaze. 

It  was  Amabel  who  came  tripping 
innocently  along.  I  say  innocently; 
but  what  did  she  have  in  her  arms? 
It  was  rather  a  large  package,  and  as 
she  reached  the  lamp  I  saw  that  it 
must  be  a  drygoods  package. 

I  turned  and  quickly  lighted  the 
lamp.  I  had  time  to  place  the  lamp  on 
the  oval  table  under  the  picture  of 
Abraham  and  Isaac,  and  to  seat  my 
self  with  the  Bible  in  my  hand  before 
the  door  opened. 

Amabel  entered  and  put  her  pack 
age  on  the  bed.  As  she  took  off  her 
hat  I  asked  if  she  had  had  a  pleasant 
walk.  I  spoke  just  as  amiably  as  if  I 
had  been  invited  to  go  with  her,  and, 
indeed,  I  felt  amiable,  for  there  is 
something  about  Amabel  that  makes 
it  difficult  to  be  really  vexed  with  her. 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  and  then, 
without  any  provocation,  she  added, 
emphatically : 

"I  never  did  approve  of  side-saddles; 
not  even  when  I  was  a  little  girl  and 
learned  to  ride." 

Now  I  was  alarmed.  Amabel  has  a 
way  of  looking  rapt  when  she  is  under 
the  influence  of  a  resolve.  She  looked 
rapt  now. 

"Is  the  town  interesting?"  I 
inquired. 

"Yes — no — I'm  sure  I  can't  tell. 
Side  -  saddles  don't  distribute  the 
weight  of  the  rider  properly.  They — " 

"Oh,  Amabel,  don't  let's  talk  about 
side-saddles;  we've  got  them,  and 
you  know  the  pains  we  took  to  make 
those  pads  to  put  under  them,  and 
they  don't  make  the  least  little  bit 
of  a  galled  place  any  more ;  not  even 
a  swelling.  You  remember  we've 
always  thought  that  those  pads  just — 
that  they  just — oh,  well,  filled  the 
bill." 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

I  spoke  hurriedly  and  couldn't  choose 
classic  phrases. 

Amabel  was  unfastening  the  string 
that  confined  the  brown  paper. 

"But  the  weight,  you  know,  can't  be 
distributed  properly,  and  it  isn't  safe. 
Theoretically,  I  have  never  approved 
of  this  fashion  of  riding  a  horse.  It 
is — it  is  inhuman,  and  there's  no 
reason  in  it. ' ' 

By  this  time  Amabel  had  removed 
the  paper.  She  seemed  to  have  some 
gray  broadcloth. 

"They  didn't  have  much  of  a  variety 
to  choose  from,"  she  remarked,  "but 
shouldn't  you  think  this  would  do  very 
well?" 

I  said  I  didn't  know. 

"I  wish  you  would  manifest  some 
interest,"  she  responded.  She  looked 
wistfully  at  me. 

"Interest  in  what?"  I  asked. 

"Why,  in  Turkish  leglets, "  she 
answered. 

I  had  come  to  the  bed  and  was 
136 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

fingering  the  cloth.  I  wonder  if  it 
would  be  too  melodramatic  to  say  that 
despair  seized  my  heart. 

"Oh,  Amabel!"  I  cried. 

"Yes,"  she  went  on,  absorbedly, 
"or  trouserettes,  I  don't  exactly  know 
which ;  but  it  makes  no  difference,  not 
the  least  difference.  There's  a  place 
in^  New  York  where  you  can  buy  'em 
ready  made ;  I  have  the  address,  but  as 
it's  at  home  in  my  desk  it  won't  do  me 
any  good  now.  Besides,  I'm  sure  I 
can  make  'em.  There  are  scissors  in 
your  bag,  aren't  there?  I'll  cut  the 
cloth  to-night,  and  I  thought  I  could 
finish  the  whole  to-morrow.  I 
thought"  (here  my  friend  turned  to 
ward  me)  "I  thought  I  wouldn't  go 
on  to-morrow;  I'd  just  stay  here 
and  sew,  and  you  and  Albert  could 
go  right  along  to — to  Barnstable,  per 
haps,  and  I'd  join  you.  I  don't  want 
to  interfere  in  any  way,  you  know. 
And  the  man  at  the  store  where  I 
bought  this  knew  of  such  a  good 
137 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

man's  saddle — or  such  a  man's  good 
saddle,  or — but  you  know  what  I  mean. 
And  he  took  me  to  see  it — 'twas  in  a 
barn  close  by — and  it's  only  been 
used  one  summer,  because  the  owner 
has ' ' 

"Gone  to  Europe,"  I  interrupted. 

"No,  has  swapped  his  horse  for  a 
bicycle,  and  will  sell  the  saddle  cheap. 
It's  a  great  chance,  and  I  snapped  it  up 
directly.  They're  going  to  bring  it 
here  this  evening.  What  makes  you 
look  like  that?" 

"How  am  I  looking?" 

"Why,  just  as  if  you'd  sink  through 
the  floor." 

"It's  so  unexpected,"  I  said. 

"What  is?" 

"The  trouserettes. " 

"Don't  you  remember  that  time 
when  we  were  looking  at  the  illustra 
tions  of  women  riding  horseback  in  the 
only  correct  way — in  that  magazine, 
you  know — and  how  nice  they  were — 
they  really  weren't  shocking  at  all,  and 
138 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

you  said  that  they  were  quite  pretty. 
You  said  that." 

"Did  I?" 

"You  certainly  did.  And  I  never 
dreamed  that  you'd  have  such  an 
expression  on  your  face  just  because  I 
— oh,  here  are  the  scissors  and  thimble, 
and  I've  bought  linings  and  sewing 
silk — just  because  I'm  going  to  reform. 
Do  you  care  so  very  much?  Haven't 
you  any  moral  courage?" 

But  I  could  not  reply  directly.  I  had 
now  gone  back  to  my  rocker.-  At  last 
I  spoke.  I  asked  Amabel  if  she  had 
considered  the  feelings  of  the  inhabit 
ants  of  the  Cape.  She  needn't  mind 
me ;  but  had  she  thought  of  the  people 
dwelling  peacefully  all  along  this 
peninsula? 

Amabel  was  now  measuring  her 
gray  cloth  by  holding  a  portion  of  it  to 
her  nose,  and  then  out  the  length  of 
one  arm. 

4 '  I  haven't  given  a  thought  to  them, ' ' 
she  answered,  "and  I  shan't." 
139 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

She  sat  down  on  the  bed  and  medi 
tated,  gazing  at  the  cloth  that  now  lay 
in  a  heap  before  her.  I  knew  she  was 
thinking  how  to  cut  it.  She  was  very 
capable  in  regard  to  cutting  out  things. 

"You  know,"  she  said,  after  a  while, 
"there  was  a  row  of  women  on  horse 
back  in  that  magazine.  Each  suit  was 
a  little  different  from  the  others.  My 
old  waist  and  jacket  will  do  well 
enough  It's  full  leglets  and  a  divided 
skirt  that  I  want.  It's  just  as  simple 
as  it  can  be.  I  can  see  the  whole  thing 
in  my  mind's  eye.  And  I'll  try  on  to 
you,  dear,  and  so  I  shall  be  sure  to  go 
right." 

Snip  went  the  scissors.  This  was 
very  hard  to  bear.  And  Amabel  was 
always  so  particularly  amiable  when 
she  was  particularly  having  her  own 
way. 

I   wondered   where   Albert  was.      I 

presently  went  down  the  stairs.      At 

the  open  outer  door  I  met  Albert.     He 

was   rushing  in  with  a  good  deal   of 

140 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

emphasis  in  his  action.     When  he  saw 
me  he  exclaimed : 

"Oh,  I  say!  What's  all  this? 
They've  just  brought  a  man's  saddle 
out  to  the  stable,  and  the  fellow  says  a 
woman's  bought  it — a  woman  with  a 
gray  cap  on,  and — and" — here  the  boy 
hesitated,  and  then  continued — "and  a 
remarkably  agreeable  smile.  Now, 
you  know,  that's  Amabel — she  has  got 
a  good  smile.  But,  by  George — has 
she  been  out  here  in  Sandwich  buying 
a  man's  saddle?" 


141 


VI 


IN    THE    LANE 

I  took  hold  of  the  sleeve  of  Albert's 
sweater  and  I  walked  him  out  of  the 
house  and  along  the  road  to  a  place 
where  there  was  solitude.  He  yanked 
his  arm,  but  I  kept  my  clasp  upon  the 
sleeve.  For  a  boy  Albert  was  re 
markably  conventional,  and  he  thought 
women  ought  to  do  what  women  had 
always  done,  no  more,  no  less. 

We  stopped  by  a  lilac  bush.  "I'm 
afraid  it's  true,"  I  said.  I  spoke  very 
calmly.  It  did  me  a  great  deal  of 
good  to  see  Albert  so  excited.  For 
some  inexplicable  reason  I  began  to  feel 
as  if  I  might  defend  my  friend's  course. 

"Oh,  blast  it!"  he  cried.  He  kicked 
out  his  foot.  "Am  is  the  tarnalest 
thing  when  she  gets  a  notion  in  her 
143 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

head!     I'm  a  great  mind  to  set  fire  to 
the  whole  thing. ' ' 

"What  whole  thing?  You  needn't 
set  fire  to  The  Thane." 

Albert  was  kicking  the  sand  and 
muttering. 

"Just  to  think!"  he  began  again. 
"Only  to  think  of  her  going  through 
the  country  in  that  style,  'n'  me  with 
her!  They'll  put  us  in  the  papers; 
they'll " 

"But  really,"  I  said,  "the  pictures 
look  quite  pretty — they're  not  startling 
at  all ;  and  you  know  women  are  riding 
bicycles  everywhere;  and  it's  not 
thought  odd  for  them  to  dress  for  it, 
and — well,  in  fact,  Albert,  I  must  say 
that — that  so's  a  hen." 

Then  I  laughed,  rather  hysterically, 
I'm  afraid. 

But  my  companion  did  not  laugh. 
He  stood  there  glowering.  I  could 
not  distinctly  see  his  face,  but  I  knew 
he  was  glowering,  and  I  could  not 
blame  him. 

144 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"I've  a  great  mind  to  write  to 
father,"  he  said,  at  last. 

"He  will  only  laugh  and  say  it's  just 
like  her." 

After  a  few  more  moments,  during 
which  Albert  had  muttered  and  thrown 
more  sand  about  with  his  foot,  he 
announced  that  he  "s'posed  we'd  got 
to  stand  it. ' ' 

Then  we  went  to  the  stable,  where 
we  examined  the  saddle,  which  had 
been  put  in  an  old  sleigh. 

"Goin"  to  try  ridin'  a  hoss  yerself, 
ain't  you?"  inquired  an  old  man  who 
was  doddering  about  with  a  big  broom 
made  of  twigs.  A  lantern  hung  from 
the  ceiling. 

Albert  made  answer  that  it  wouldn't 
be  the  first  time  if  he  did.  He  brought 
out  Amabel's  horse  and  put  the  sad 
dle  upon  him,  looking  at  straps  and 
buckles  so  carefully  and  solicitously  that 
I  felt  that,  after  all,  I  was  fond  of  Albert. 

"It's  a  capital  pigskin,"  said  he. 

He  slapped  his  hand  down  on  the 
145 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

leather  as  he  spoke.     "I  wonder  what 
she  paid  for  it." 

"I  don't  know;  she  said  it  was  a 
bargain. ' ' 

"Pooh!  Of  course  'twas  a  bargain. 
The  proportion  of  women  who  think 
they  always  get  bargains  is  as ' ' 

I  hurriedly  said  something,  I  hardly 
knew  what ;  anything  to  keep  the  boy 
from  going  into  any  kind  of  figures. 

We  stood  about  in  the  barn  and 
watched  the  old  man  sweep  the  rough 
planking  with  his  twig  broom.  The 
interest  of  examining  the  saddle  had 
subsided  with  Albert.  He  suddenly 
came  close  to  me  and  confided  in  a 
whisper  that  he  had  a  great  mind  to 
take  Amabel's  bowie-knife  and  give  a 
slash  at  her  horse's  hind  leg.  Then 
she'd  have  time  enough  to  come  to  her 
senses  before  her  horse  could  go.  To 
this  I  replied  that  she  would  never 
come  to  her  senses,  because  she 
thought  that  her  senses  was  what  she 
had  just  come  to. 

146 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"And  now,"  I  said,  with  a  great 
appearance  of  cheerfulness,  "I  will  go 
in  and  see  how  the  trouserettes  come 
on." 

"Oh,  the  whole  thing  be  blowed!"  I 
heard  him  say.  "Am  ought  to  be  shut 
"up." 

I  went  upstairs.  The  Bible  had 
been  removed  from  the  oval  table, 
which  was  now  occupied  by  a  pile  of 
gray  cloth.  The  kerosene  lamp  was 
blazing  to  its  fullest  capacity.  Ama 
bel  had  already  cut  out  something,  and 
was  sewing  rapidly.  Her  hand 
actually  seemed  to  flash,  it  went  so 
fast. 

"I'm  so  glad  you've  come,"  she 
said,  without  turning  her  head.  "I 
shall  soon  have  something  basted  to 
try  on  you." 

I  sat  down  on  the  bed. 

"Albert  says  you  ought  to  be  shut 
up,"  I  remarked. 

Amabel  laughed.  She  threaded  her 
needle  and  ran  it  into  the  cloth  again ; 
147 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

out  it  flew,  dragging  nearly  a  yard  of 
sewing  cotton. 

I  was  suddenly  impelled  to  leave  my 
seat  and  go  and  throw  myself  on  my 
friend.  I  embraced  her  and  kissed 
her;  I  told  her  it  was  no  time,  on  a 
journey  like  this,  to  try  an  experiment. 
I  asked  her  if  she  loved  me. 

She  returned  my  caresses  tenderly ; 
at  the  same  time  she  gathered  up  the 
gray  cloth  with  one  hand. 

"Of  course  I  love  you;  you  know 
that  very  well.  And  it's  precisely  the 
time  to  try  this  experiment,  on  a  jour 
ney.  Did  you  think  I  could  ride  a 
horse  sitting  in  my  room  at  home? 
Now,  please  let  me  measure  this  skirt. 
There,  shouldn't  you  think  that  would 
do?  You  know  you  are  almost  exactly 
my  height?  You'll  be  wanting  me  to 
fit  you  out  before  you  know  it.  Just 
think,  if  I  sit  up  rather  late  sewing 
to-night,  I'm  sure  I  shall  be  able  to  get 
my  suit  done  so  that  we  may  start  by 
noon.  Perhaps  you  and  Albert  will 
148 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

be  willing  to  wait  until  then,  and  we 
can  all  go  together.  I  may  feel  a  little 
queer  at  first,  and  it  would  be  pleas 
ant  not  to  be  alone.  Not  that  I  care 
much;  I  should  have  my  bowie-knife, 
you  know." 

Here  Amabel  laughed  with  great 
merriment.  But  I  could  not  join  in 
her  laughter.  I  went  to  bed;  the 
,  night  passed  in  a  medley  of  sleeping 
and  waking  dreams  of  divided  skirts 
and  trousers.  I  didn't  know  when 
Amabel  stopped  sewing,  but  I  suppose 
she  did  stop,  for  when  the  first  bell 
rang  she  was  sleeping  calmly.  I 
went  down  to  breakfast  alone. 
Albert  was  waiting  for  me  in  the  hall. 
He  asked  me  if  I  had  "left  her  locked 
up,"  and  when  I  shook  my  head  he 
said  she  was  a  fool ;  and  he  was  a  fool, 
and  he  wished  he  was  in  Guinea.  He 
furthermore  said  that  the  folks  in  the 
hotel  had  somehow  found  out  that 
"one  of  them  women"  had  bought 
Charlie  Smith's  saddle  because  she 
149 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

wanted  to  ride  it  herself ;  that  she  was 
a  reformer  woman,  and  had  sat  up  all 
night  to  make  something  to  wear. 

"And  they  say,"  went  on  Albert,  in 
a  hoarse  half -voice,  "that  she  was 
taken  with  being  a  reformer  after  she 
got  to  the  hotel  last  night,  and  nothing 
would  do  but  she  must  have  a  cross- 
tree.  There'll  be  a  lot  of  folks  here 
to  see  us  start.  Do  you  see  those 
fellows  over  there?"  he  nodded  toward 
the  street.  I  looked  and  saw  four  or 
five  young  men  leaning  against  the 
fence.  "They've  been  there  ever 
since  I  came  down.  I  heard  'em  talk 
ing.  Two  of  'em  have  bet  she  won't 
do  it,  and  two  of  'em  have  bet  she 
will.  They've  put  up  $1.50  apiece. 
You  see,  I  can't  kill  'em.  I've  got  to 
let  'em  live.  I  don't  know  how  many 
more  will  be  here  by  nine  o'clock. 
Now,  what's  going  to  be  done?" 

"Can't  we  start  from  the  back 
door?"  I  asked,  feebly. 

Albert  laughed  with  great  scorn. 
150 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Back  door  be  dumbed!"  he  re 
sponded.  "That  old  man  with  the 
twig  broom  knows  it.  He  told  me  ten 
minutes  ago  that  he  understood 
'twan't  me,  after  all,  that  was  going 
to  use  Charley  Smith's  saddle." 

"Where's  your  Japanese  dirk?"  I 
inquired. 

The  boy  involuntarily  put  his  hand  to 
his  belt. 

"  'Tain't  any  joke,"  he  said.  "I 
won't  stand  it  if  you  go  to  taking  it  as 
a  joke.  Something's  got  to  be  thought 
of." 

I  began  myself  to  think  that  some 
thing  must  be  thought  of.  I  proposed 
that  we  eat  our  breakfast,  and  mean 
time  that  we  keep  our  minds  in  a 
receptive  state. 

Just  as  we  were  finishing  our  meal 

Amabel  came  in.     She  greeted  us  as 

if  we  were  greatly  pleased  with  her. 

She    made  an   excellent  repast.      She 

took  occasion  to  inform  me  that  two 

•hours'  work  would  finish  the  suit.     In 

151 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

response  I  asked  her  to  look  through 
the  window.  There  were  now  seven 
or  eight  men  grouped  at  the  fence. 

"They're  waiting  to  see  you  start," 
I  said.  "They've  got  bets  laid." 

Amabel  grew  red.  I  was  afraid  that 
I  ought  not  to  have  spoken  thus.  If 
her  combativeness  should  be  roused 
matters  would  be  still  worse. 

She  said  nothing,  and  I  hurried  her 
upstairs. 

"Let  us  circumvent  them,"  I  sug 
gested. 

"Very  well,"  she  answered.  "I 
will  not  give  up  a  principle  like  a 
divided  skirt,  but  I  don't  want  to  be 
obstinate." 

Whereupon  I  hurriedly  proposed  that 
when  she  had  finished  her  sewing  she 
should  take  the  first  train  to  Barn- 
stable;  Albert  and  I  would  ride  there. 
We  would  lead  Amabel's  horse  with  the 
man's  saddle  on  it.  We  would  express 
the  discarded  saddle  home.  In  Barn- 
stable  we  would  meet,  and  in  some 
152 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

secluded  part  of  that  town  she  should 
begin  her  journey  with  her  weight 
equally  divided.  I  bore  down  upon  my 
friend  with  this  proposition  in  such  a 
way  that  she  assented.  I  did  not  wait 
a  moment  after  receiving  this  assent. 
In  half  an  hour  Albert  and  I  were 
riding  away  from  Sandwich.  We 
mounted  in  front  of  the  hotel  before  a 
rather  large  congregation  which  had 
gathered  as  if  by  magic  as  soon  as 
Amabel's  horse,  with  Charley  Smith's 
saddle  upon  it,  had  been  brought 
round. 

Albert  was  on  his  wheel.  A  rope 
was  attached  to  the  bits  of  Amabel's 
horse,  and  I  held  the  other  end  of  the 
rope.  To  my  inexpressible  relief  The 
Thane  made  no  objection  to  this 
arrangement.  Perhaps  he  thought 
that  in  some  way  it  was  derogatory  to 
the  other  horse,  and  so  liked  it. 

The  Thane  kindly  consented,  also, 
to  allow  a  chair  to  be  brought  close  to 
the  stirrup,  and  from  this  chair  I  got 
153 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

into  my  saddle  in  view  of  the  assem 
blage. 

When  we  were  well  away  Albert 
raised  his  voice  and  asked  the  circum 
ambient  air  if  it  thought  it  would  ever 
see  him  in  Sandwich  again. 

"If  you  ever  catch  me  there  I'll  be — 
I'll  be " 

He  suddenly  stopped  and  glanced  at 
me  as  if  my  presence  were  a  restraint 
upon  him. 

It  was  extremely  good  to  be  on  the 
road  again.  It  seemed  as  if  we  had 
been  shut  up  many  days  in  Sand 
wich. 

The  weather  had  changed.  A  mist 
was  rising  in  the  east,  and  a  swift  wind 
was  blowing  in  from  the  sea.  We  rode 
briskly.  We  could  taste  the  salt  on 
our  lips.  At  East  Sandwich  we  were 
afraid  it  was  going  to  rain ;  but  a  half- 
hour  later  the  wind  had  died  away  and 
the  soft  southwester  had  begun  again. 
Sometimes,  from  an  elevation  in  the 
road,  we  could  see  the  waters  of  Cape 

154 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Cod  Bay;  sometimes,  in  the  far  offing, 
we  saw  the  trail  of  smoke  which  we 
were  pleased  to  believe  came  from  the 
stacks  of  some  European  liner. 

There  is  always  a  glamour  about  a 
foreign-going  steamer;  the  sight  of  it 
suggests  dreams  of  ports  we  have 
longed  to  see  and  never  shall  see.  A 
thousand  fancies — but  one  cannot  very 
well  indulge  in  fancies  in  the  company 
of  a  boy  of  fourteen  who  is  mathe 
matically  inclined.  When  I  spoke  in 
rather  a  romantic  way  of  that  steamer, 
which  we  saw  when  we  were  about  a 
mile  and  three-quarters  this  side  of 
Barnstable,  Albert  immediately  began 
to  wonder  how  many  tons  of  coal  they 
had  put  aboard  before  starting,  and  at 
what  rate  they  were  burning  it.  He 
said  there  was  quite  a  difference  in  the 
rate,  and — here  I  succeeded  in  disen 
gaging  my  mind  from  what  he  was 
saying,  and  so  cannot  report. 

The  roads  on  Cape  Cod  are  not,  as  a 
rule,  the  kind  a  wheelman  would  choose 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

to  ride  upon,  except  those  near  where 
the  cottagers  have  clustered  in  greater 
numbers.  In  such  vicinities  the  sum 
mer  residents  have  made  good  high 
ways  for  themselves  to  ride  upon,  and 
others  profit  by  their  deed. 

I  was  rather  sorry  for  my  companion 
when  I  saw  him  pedaling  so  labor 
iously,  but  when  I  expressed  this  sor 
row  he  said  he  guessed  I  needn't  strain 
myself  pitying  him. 

The  Thane  behaved  nobly;  his  man 
ner  expressed  something  of  a  disdain 
toward  Amabel's  steed  as  being  merely 
a  led  horse,  but  as  this  disdain  was  con 
fined  to  manner  entirely,  and  did  not 
develop  into  any  overt  act,  the  time 
passed  calmly. 

We  had  neglected  to  look  at  a  rail 
way  timetable  before  we  started,  so  we 
did  not  know  when  a  train  would  arrive 
from  Boston,  for  it  must  be  a  Boston 
train  that  Amabel  would  take.  We 
only  knew  that  there  were  two  trains 
a  day  each  way,  excepting  on  Satur- 
156 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

days,  when  there  were  three,  and  this 
wasn't  Saturday. 

It  seemed  to  us  a  long  fifteen  miles 
from  Sandwich  to  Barnstable,  and  it 
was  not  made  shorter  by  my  anxiety 
concerning  Amabel.  And  ought  I  to 
have  remained  at  the  hotel  so  that  she 
could  try  on  to  me?  This  question 
came  with  startling  force  to  my  mind 
just  as  the  towers  and  turrets  and 
battlements  of  Barnstable  loomed  upon 
the  horizon. 

But  I  was  charmed  with  Barnstable. 
Of  course  the  summer  cottage  had 
grown  here  some  degree,  but  why 
should  I,  who  am  but  a  summer  person 
myself,  find  fault  with  that  fact?  Here 
sits  the  curious  old  place  by  its  deep 
bay,  sits  and  dreams  of  the  time  when 
the  world  needed  whale  oil.  That  the 
world  should  need  whale  oil  in  large 
quantities  must  be  the  ideal  of  pros 
perity  along  this  shore,  an  ideal  never 
more  to  be  realized.  If  these  villages 
are  decadent,  however,  it  is  a  salt- 
i57 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

preserved  decadence  that  is  more  inter 
esting  than  successful  being — that, 
indeed,  has  still  the  pulse  of  sturdy 
life.  It  was  down  in  this  country — 
was  it  in  Eastham? — that  they  built  a 
fortified  church,  and  that  "a  part  of 
every  stranded  whale  was  by  law 
reserved  for  the  ministry. ' '  Think  of 
a  minister  in  these  days  being  paid  in 
whale ! 

But  I  have  heard  that 'now  in  some 
parts  of  the  Cape  alewives  are  legal 
tender,  and  you  can  pick  up  clams  as 
you  walk  along  the  streets.  I  do  not 
believe  such  a  tale,  however;  clams 
would  not  promenade  a  public  thor 
oughfare  ;  their  keen  intelligence  would 
teach  them  better. 

Here  we  were,  tired  and  hot  and 
hungry,  at  the  door  of  the  Globe 
House.  We  had  been  a  long  time  on 
the  way;  we  had  traveled  slowly,  and 
we  had  several  times  rested.  My 
anxiety  as  to  Amabel  had  grown  rather 
than  abated.  What  if  she  should  be- 
158 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

come  absorbed  in  dressmaking  and 
should  neglect  to  take  the  cars?  Some 
times  Amabel  is  absent-minded. 

I  was  melancholy  as  I  dismounted 
and  relinquished  my  two  horses  to  the 
hostler,  who  took  them,  staring  so  that 
he  twice  dropped  the  halter  which  I 
detached  from  my  pommel.  Albert 
went  round  to  the  stable  with  them. 
When  the  time  came  for  our  horses  to 
be  taken  to  a  stable  I  was  always  glad 
that  Albert  was  with  us.  It  was 
entirely  proper  for  him  to  penetrate 
those  mysterious  precincts. 

I  entered  the  dim  parlor  and  sat 
down.  I  felt  desolate  and  forsaken. 
I  was  now  decidedly  sorry  I  had  not 
remained  with  my  friend  in  Sandwich. 
If  trains  had  been  going  often  between 
the  two  places,  I  would  have  gone 
back.  It  was  now  past  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon.  I  was  faint  and  weary ; 
the  world  was  black  to  me. 

Somebody  was  coming  down  the 
stairs — somebody  hurried  through  the 
159 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

open  doorway — somebody  hugged  me 
and  exclaimed: 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad!  I  began  to  fear 
something  had  happened.  I've 
worried  about  you  no  end — I've  felt 
mean — I've ' ' 

Reader,  it  was  Amabel;  fresh  and 
smiling,  and  rested,  and  really  quite 
radiant!  I  kissed  her  as  if  I  hadn't 
seen  her  for  a  month.  For  one 
moment  I  forgot  that  it  was  better  to 
have  one's  weight  evenly  divided  upon 
the  horse. 

But  she  hadn't  forgotten. 

"You  can't  think  what  luck  I've 
had,"  she  went  on.  "It's  a  perfect  fit 
— it's  just  a  love  of  a  dove — and  I  shall 
be  so  happy  in  it.  I'll  make  you  one 
— perhaps  I  ought  to  speak  in  the  plural 
— I'll  make  some  for  you — and  perhaps 
we  can  find  another  man's  saddle — 
another  saddle  for  a  man,  I  mean — 
really  for  you,  you  know — you  know 
what  I  mean." 

I  thanked  her  and  said  that  I  was 

160 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

not  yet  far  advanced  enough.  She 
responded  hopefully  that  she  was  sure 
that  she  should  convert  me;  she  was 
sure  that  I,  who  was  so  reasonable  and 
tender-hearted,  would  soon  be  able  to 
see  things  as  she  saw  them.  And  did 
we  have  a  pleasant  ride,  and  was 
Albert  awfully  cross? — and  so  on. 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue  to  say 
that  it  is  very  easy  to  be  in  good  spirits 
when  you  are  having  your  own  way, 
but,  as  I  may  have  said  before,  Ama 
bel  is  very  disarming,  and  she  is  not 
selfish ;  she  is — she  is  just  Amabel,  and 
you  who  have  met  her  know  what  I 
mean  by  that  phrase,  and  that  it  is  the 
only  phrase  that  is  of  any  good. 

We  had  supper,  and  then  we  went 
out  and  wandered  by  the  shores  of  the 
bay,  and  saw  some  fishermen;  and 
Albert  made  inquiries  as  to  the  aver 
age  amount  of  cod  caught  by  Cape 
fishermen  in  the  last  five  years.  But 
Amabel  and  I  looked  at  the  water,  and 
the  stars  over  the  water,  and  at  the 

161 


SAND    'N'     BUSHES 

dim  shapes  of  boats  on  the  shore ;  and 
we  smelled  the  heavy  scent  of  the 
syringa  blossoms,  and  decided  that 
orange  blooms  had  not  a  more  entranc 
ing  fragrance. 

As  we  came  back  toward  the  hotel  we 
passed  through  a  narrow  lane  where 
the  odor  of  fish  was  very  strong,  and 
where  at  one  of  the  open  doors  a 
woman  sat  with  a  baby  in  her  arms. 
The  baby  was  making  a  little  wailing 
noise,  and  the  mother  was  trying  to 
sing  to  it,  and  her  singing  was  broken 
by  sobs. 

Amabel  stopped;  so  I  stopped  also. 

"Is  the  baby  sick?"  asked  Amabel. 

"Yes,  ma'am.  The  doctor  said" — 
here  a  pause,  then  another  attempt — 
"he  said  she  couldn't  live  more'n 
twenty-four  hours." 

"Oh!"  said  Amabel,  softly — she 
seemed  to  hesitate.  Then  she  went 
through  the  bit  of  a  flower  garden 
where  the  stalks  of  the  tiger  lily  grew 
almost  as  rank  as  the  pigweed.  The 
162 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

garden  was  not  more  than  ten  feet 
wide;  I  leaned  on  the  fence. 

"Let  me  take  her  a  minute,"  said 
my  friend,  in  a  voice  that  I  knew  went 
straight  to  the  mother's  heart.  "You 
must  be  so  tired. ' ' 

"I  ain't  slep'  for  three  days  'n' 
nights,"  was  the  response,  "but  that 
ain't  no  matter — I  c'n  stan'  that." 

She  rose  as  Amabel  extended  her 
arms.  Amabel  took  the  baby  and  sat 
down  in  the  mother's  place  on  the 
doorstep.  She  held  the  child  close  to 
her,  gazing  down  at  it.  In  the  half 
darkness  the  tiny  face  looked  as  white, 
and  almost  as  formless,  as  a  splash  of 
snow  on  Amabel's  shoulder.  The 
head  moved  piteously  to  and  fro. 

The  mother  stood  leaning  against  the 
frame  of  the  door,  her  eyes  on  the  child. 

"She's  be'n  movin'  her  head  jes'  like 
that  ever  sence  mornin',"  she  said. 

She  bent  over  and  touched  the 
baby's  cheek  with  her  finger.  Then 
she  seemed  to  fall  in  a  heap  at  Ama- 
163 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

bel's  knees  and  to  cower  there.  A 
slight  wind  stirred  the  syringa  bush 
that  was  growing  in  the  next  yard; 
the  blossoms  nodded  in  the  air,  and 
their  perfume  came  strongly  to  me. 
It  was  June,  June  opulent  with  life; 
but  this  poor  morsel  of  humanity  was 
drifting  away  from  it  all.  Did  she 
care?  Would  she  ever,  in  some  other 
world,  care  that  her  time  had  been  so 
short  in  this? 

I  wished  that  I  could  do  something, 
but  I  could  only  stand  there. 

The  tide  was  softly  ebbing  out;  the 
deep  bay  looked  shallow  now. 

Amabel,  holding  her  burden  care 
fully  with  one  arm,  reached  out  her 
other  hand  and  put  it  on  the  woman's 
shoulder. 

"Sh!"  she  said,  softly,  "you've  got 
to  bear  it. ' ' 

The  woman  cowered  still  nearer,  and 
leaned  her  head  on  Amabel's  knees. 

"We  all  have  to  bear  things,"  said 
my  friend. 

164 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Oh,  I  know — I  know,"  was  the 
response.  Then  suddenly  and  bitterly: 
"You  s'pose  there's  a  God,  don't  you?" 

"Yes,  yes." 

The  woman  sat  upright.  She  flung  a 
tight-shut  hand  above  her  head. 

"Then  all  I've  got  to  say  is  He's  a 
meaner  critter  'n'  any  of  us!"  she 
cried.  "  He  takes  all  my  babies.  What 
does  He  want  of  'em?  Jes'  tell  me  that! 
What  does  He  want  of  'em?  He's  killed 
three— this's  the  fourth.  Oh !  Oh ! " 

Something  more  came  inarticulately 
from  her  lips. 

"Where's  the  father?" 

"I  d'know.  Drunk  somewhere," 
with  an  indescribably  bitter  tone. 

"Drunk?     Now?" 

It  was  I  who  said  this,  and  then 
repented. 

But  the  mother  did  not  apparently 
hear. 

"Poor  thing!  Poor  thing!"  Amabel 
spoke  in  a  half  whisper. 

"Don't  ye  pity  me!  Don't  ye  pity 
165 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

me!  I  can't  stan'  that  now.  Folks 
round  here  don't  pity  me  much.  Dave 
was  a  drinkin'  brute  when  I  married 
him.  They  say  it's  good  'nough  for 
me.  I  d'know  what  possessed  me. 
But  the  neighbors  've  be'n  good  to  me. 
Mis'  Lyon  sat  up  with  me  las'  night." 

The  words  ran  on  in  a  dull  mono 
tone.  All  the  time  the  mother's  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  baby,  who  was  lying 
more  quiet  now. 

"You  soothe  her,  "said  the  woman, 
after  an  instant's  silence.  "Oh!  mebby 
it's  the  turnin'  point,  'n'  she'll  get 
well.  Doctors  don't  know  everything, 
do  they?  Say,  do  they?" 

"Hush!"  whispered  Amabel. 

Yes,  the  baby  was  quiet  now.  Its 
little  form  was  still,  and  it  had  stopped 
moaning. 

The  woman  rose  rigidly  upright  on 
her  knees  at  Amabel's  side. 

"What!" 

The  sharp  tone  of  her  voice  was 
dreadful  to  hear. 

166 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  bent  over  and 
snatched  the  baby  to  her  breast. 
With  it  held  thus  she  began  to  walk 
rapidly  up  and  down  in  the  narrow 
space  before  the  door,  holding  her  child 
close.  Presently  she  sang  a  few 
words.  She  sang  "God  my  Supporter 
is,"  in  a  thin,  sweet  voice  that  was 
perfectly  steady. 

"Mis'  Merrit,"  asked  some  one  from 
across  the  lane,  "how's  baby  to-night? 
I  guess  I  c'n  set  up  'n'  take  care  of  it 
till  midnight;  'n'  you  c'n  lop  down  'n' 
ketch  a  nap.  She's  more  comfortable, 
ain't  she?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  mother,  "she's 
a  lot  more  comfortable,"  and  she  began 
to  sing  again  as  she  walked, 

"God  my  supporter  is." 

She  did  not  get  any  further  than  that 
line.  She  went  back  and  repeated  it 
still  another  time. 

The  neighbor  pushed  by  me  and 
strode  up  the  tiny  path  among  the 
tiger  lily  stalks. 

167 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Here,"  she  said,  "Mis'  Merrit,  you 
lem  me  have  it!  I'll  do  what's  neces 
sary  now;  'n'  I'll  send  my  Jim  for  the 
undertaker." 

Mrs.  Merrit  faced  about  with  the 
dead  baby  held  up  against  her  heart. 

"No,"  she  shouted,  "you  shan't  have 
it!  'God  my  supporter  is,'  "  her  treble 
higher  and  sweeter  than  before. 

The  neighbor  quailed. 

"Poor  thing!"  she  cried,  "she's  gone 
out  of  her  head — 'n'  I  don't  wonder." 

I  hastened  up  the  path.  I  did  not 
know  what  I  was  going  to  do,  but  I 
wanted  to  do  something.  Amabel 
went  close  to  Mrs.  Merrit,  and  put  her. 
arm  about  her. 

"Come,"  she  said,  "come  into  the 
house  with  me.  You'll  let  me  take  the 
baby  again." 

She  extended  her  arms  and  the 
mother  did  let  her  take  the  baby. 
Holding  the  tiny,  stiffening  form, 
Amabel  turned  to  me  and  whispered 
imperatively : 

168 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Do  find  a  doctor!" 

But  the  neighbor  who  had  come 
interposed. 

"I'll  go,"  she  said.  "I  know  where 
to  go.  I  shouldn't  blame  her  one  bit 
if  she  went  raving  distracted." 

With  these  words  she  hurried  away. 

We  entered  the  dingy  little  house 
where  a  kerosene  lamp  was  burning 
on  the  shelf.  On  the  table  was  a  small 
kerosene  stove  with  one  wick;  this  was 
lighted,  and  on  the  iron  frame  above  it 
was  a  tin  cup  holding  something  that 
bubbled  and  steamed. 

The  mother  walked  up  to  this  lamp- 
stove  and  took  off  the  cup.  She  went 
to  the  sink  and  poured  the  contents  of 
the  cup  into  it. 

"She'll  never  want  it,"  she  re 
marked,  in  a  perfectly  collected 
manner. 

I  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  Her 
face  was  flushed,  her  eyes  very  bright. 

Amabel  laid  the  baby  on  a  bed  which 
stood  in  the  next  room. 
169 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Mrs.  Merrit  sat  down  in  a  chair  by 
the  bed.  She  sat  quietly  and  she  did 
not  speak. 

We  waited.  It  would  be  a  barbarous 
thing  to  leave  her  now.  But  there  was 
nothing  to  do. 

Once  Amabel  went  and  leaned  over 
the  woman,  with  her  arm  about  the 
bent  shoulders.  I  heard  the  woman 
sob  dryly.  Amabel  drew  a  chair  close 
and  sat  down,  holding  the  mother's 
inert  hand. 

I  sat  near.  The  night  was  very 
still.  Even  the  bay  made  hardly  a 
sound,  the  tide  not  having  turned  to 
come  in. 

But  the  crickets  were  cheerful. 

It  was  not  an  hour,  though  it  seemed 
much  longer,  when  we  heard  a  heavy, 
shuffling  step  outside.  I  was  looking 
at  Mrs.  Merrit  and  I  saw  a  convulsive 
movement  go  over  her. 

The  step  approached  and  imme 
diately  a  thick-set  man  entered.  I  saw 
his  bearded  face  as  he  went  toward  the 
170 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

kitchen  stove.  He  had  a  cane,  and  he 
thumped  it  heavily  on  the  door. 

His  hand  went  bunglingly  over  the 
cold  stove. 

"I  say,  Becky,"  he  said,  "I  told  ye  to 
leave  the  coffee.  I  say " 

I  rose  and  went  into  the  kitchen.  I 
took  the  hand  lamp  and  looked  at  the 
man. 

"No  matter  about  the  coffee,"  I  said. 
"Are  you  Mr.  Merrit?" 

"Yeh— I  be." 

He  leaned  on  his  cane  and  stared 
hazily  at  me.  He  swayed,  drew  him 
self  up  and  planted  his  feet  more 
firmly. 

"Who  be  you?" 

"It's  of  no  consequence.  I  see 
you're  drunk.  Your  baby  has  just 
died.  Behave  as  well  as  you  can. 
Can't  you  go  to  bed  somewhere?" 

He  swayed  again,  again  drew  him 
self  up  and  planted  his  feet. 

"Baby  dead?  That's  the  fourth. 
I'm — I'm  sorry.  You  needn't  think 
171 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

I'm  drunk.  Ain't  drunk  a  drop  this 
week;  only  one  glass  lager  down  to 
Waul's  day  'fore  yist'dy.  Can't  git 
drunk  on  one  glass  lager  day  'fore 
yist'dy — 'n'  Waul's  lager,  too." 

"Can't  you  go  to  bed  somewhere?"  I 
repeated. 

"Yeh — yeh — course  I  can.  Guess 
I'll  go  to  bed,"  as  if  he  had  just 
thought  of  the  idea  himself.  "I'll  go 
to  bed." 

He  turned  toward  a  room  at  the 
other  end  of  the  kitchen.  But  at  the 
door  he  looked  back,  catching  hold  of 
the  latch  and  swinging  the  door  as  he 
stood. 

"Jew  say  baby  was  dead?" 

"Yes." 

"Too  bad — I'm  real  sorry — jes'  's 
sorry  's  I  c'n  be.  Jes'  like  Becky  to 
forgit  that  cold  coffee." 

He  made  a  lurch  forward  and  on  to  a 
bed  that  stood  in  the  little  room. 

Before  I    could  get  to   the  door  to 
close  it,  he  was  snoring  loudly. 
172 


VII 

SHE      THAT     WAS     EUNICE     CALKINS 

Through  the  closed  door  we  could 
hear  the  heavy  breathing  of  Dave 
Merrit.  I  wondered  if  his  wife  heard 
it.  She  gave  no  sign  that  she  did. 
She  sat  quiet,  with  Amabel  beside  her. 
The  time  went  on,  and  I  knew  by  the 
changed  sound  of  the  water  in  the  bay 
that  the  tide  had  turned  to  come  in, 
not  that  the  long-drawn  gurgle  of  the 
water  was  louder,  but  that  it  was 
different. 

The  clock  had  struck  ten  before  the 
woman  who  had  gone  for  the  doctor 
returned.  She  was  almost  breathless. 
She  said  he  had  been  called  to  Wellfleet, 
"somebody  was  dretful  sick'.'  in  Well- 
fleet,  and  there  was  to  be  a  consulta 
tion.  Nobody  knew  when  he'd  be  back. 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"  'Tain't  no  matter,"  said  Mrs. 
Merrit,  who  had  heard  the  words. 
"Doctor  can't  do  nothin'.  You 
needn't  have  gone." 

"I  wanted  him  for  you,  Mrs. 
Merrit,"  was  the  response.  "I  didn't 
know  what  would  happen  to  you. 
You're  jest  wore  out,  you  be." 

"Me!" 

The  mother  laughed  shortly. 

"Where's  Dave?"  the  neighbor  asked. 

"Can't  you  hear  him?"  Mrs.  Merrit 
turned.  There  was  a  fury  in  her 
sunken  eyes.  "Dave's  a-restin'  of  his- 
self.  That's  what  he's  doin'.  That's 
the  man  I  married  for  love.  He  was 
goin'  to  stop  drinkin',  'cause  he  loved 
me  so.  Ain't  it  funny?" 

"Don't  ye — don't  ye!"  pleaded  the 
other. 

We  stayed  until  Mrs.  Merrit  had 
been  persuaded  to  lie  down.  Some 
catnip  tea,  with  a  little  paregoric,  was 
prepared  by  the  neighbor,  and  Mrs. 
Merrit  drank  it,  saying  as  she  did  so 
174 


SAND     'N'    BUSHES 

that  she  "wished  there  was  a  quart  of 
laudanum  in  it" 

When  we  left  she  was  sleeping ;  she 
could  not  keep  awake. 

The  woman  followed  us  out  into  the 
yard ;  she  became  garrulous  concerning 
the  trials  of  Dave  Merrit's  wife.  She 
said  she  shouldn't  blame  Dave  Merrit's 
wife  for  nothin'  she  might  ever  do. 
She  didn't  consider  that  a  person  who 
lived  with  Dave  Merrit  was  respon 
sible.  She  could  not  bear  to  have  us 
go;  she  "hadn't  half  told  us,"  she  said. 

We  walked  along  the  salty  roads  with 
out  speaking.  I  tried  to  shake  off  the 
depression  that  had  fastened  upon  me. 

At  the  corner,  where  the  lane  turned 
into  a  broader  highway,  a  fiddle  was 
suddenly  scraped  by  a  long  and  quaver 
ing  bow,  and  a  sonorous  voice  burst 
out  jovfally, 

"A  wet  sheet  and  a  flowing  sea, 
And  a  wind  that  follows  fast" 

We  paused  involuntarily,  but  the  voice 

175 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

stopped,  and  the  bow  ceased  to  be 
drawn  across  the  strings. 

The  house  from  which  the  sounds 
came  was  dark,  with  open  windows 
and  doors;  an  old  dory  was  in  the 
yard,  and  a  broken  oar  lay  in  it;  we 
could  see  these  things  dimly.  The  tide 
breathed  louder  from  the  bay;  a 
breeze  was  coming  in  with  the  tide. 

I  was  glad  when  we  came  out  near 
where  the  lamp  was  burning  in  front  of 
the  hotel. 

Albert  came  forward  from  a  group 
of  men. 

' '  It's  rather  rough  of  you  to  stay  off 
like  this,"  he  said,  "you'd  have 
thought  I  was  a  horrid  thing  if  I'd 
done  it.  What's  up,  anyway?" 

"Nothing,  only  we've  been  where 
there's  trouble." 

We  went  on  to  our  own  roomf 

The  next  morning,  when  the  sun 
rose,  pushing  with  persistent  cheerful 
ness  through  a  bank  of  clouds,  it 
seemed  as  if  we  had  dreamed  about 
176 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

that  baby  and  its  mother.  Amabel 
hurried  to  the  lane  after  breakfast. 
When  she  returned  she  said  that  it  was 
all  horrible,  and  she  wished  the  woman 
would  die.  Then  she  walked  on  out  of 
the  town  by  herself.  This  was  carry 
ing  out  the  plan  we  had  made  that 
Amabel  was  to  mount  somewhere  in  a 
desert  spot  beyond  Barnstable,  where 
no  human  eye  save  ours  could  see. 

A  half-hour  later  we  followed  in  the 
same  fashion  in  which  we  had  arrived. 
If  the  inhabitants  of  Barnstable  won 
dered  greatly  at  our  arrangements,  and 
could  not  fathom  the  reason  for  them, 
they  kept  their  wonder  hidden.  They 
stared,  but  they  did  not  question. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  when  we  were 
a  good  mile  from  the  village  among 
some  dwarf  oaks,  and  still  well  away 
from  Yarmouth  Station,  we  espied, 
sitting  on  a  bowlder  by  the  roadside,  a 
female  figure  tha  t  we  presently  knew 
was  Amabel. 

"There's  Am,"  said  Albert,  with  a 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

groan.  "You  don't  suppose  she's 
changed  her  mind,  do  you?  There's 
no  such  good  luck's  that." 

No,  there  was  no  such  good  luck  as 
that.  It  wasn't  about  such  things  that 
my  friend  changed  her  mind.  She 
rose  and  came  to  meet  us.  When  she 
left  the  hotel,  as  a  concession  to  the 
prejudices  of  the  narrow-minded,  she 
had  worn  her  riding  skirt  over  the  new 
garments  she  had  made.  She  now  had 
this  skirt  on  her  arm. 

"Pooh!"  cried  Albert,  in  a  relieved 
manner,  "  'tain't  so  bad."  He  glanced 
at  me.  "What  you  been  so  frightened 
about,  anyway?  It's  no  worse  than  a 
tiptop  bicycle  suit.  By  gum!  Am, 
you  ain't  so  much  of  a  scarecrow's  I 
expected.  Now  les'  git  ready  to 
git." 

He  had  jumped  off  his  wheel. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Amabel.  "Did 
you  think  I  was  going  to  disgrace 
you?" 

"Yes,  of  course.  You  expect  any- 
178 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

thing  of  a  reformer.  Here,  let  me  have 
that  horse, "he  grabbed  the  bridle  of 
Amabel's  horse  and  led  it  up  to  his 
sister.  "Put  your  foot  in  the  stirrup 
'n'  swing  right  up.  You'll  pass  muster 
now,  I  tell  you.  Go  it!" 

It  was  evident  that  Amabel  was 
excited.  I  was  excited  myself.  She 
stood  by  her  horse  with  her  hand  on 
his  neck. 

"If  you've  changed  your  mind,  I'll 
get  back  your  saddle  somehow,"  said 
Albert.  "I'll  begin  telegraphing  for 
it  at  Yarmouth  Station,  and  I  won't 
stop  till  it  comes. ' ' 

"Don't  be  silly,"  was  the  response. 
"Lead  him  up  somewhere  and  I'll 
get  on.  If  I  live  I'll  have  my  weight 
evenly  distributed — and  I'll  have  a 
clear  conscience.  Lead  him  up  some 
where,  I  say!" 

But  we  had  to  go  on  some  quarter  of 

a  mile  before   we    came  to    anything 

from  which  to  mount.     Then  we  found 

a  stump  high  enough,  and  Amabel  got 

179 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

into  the  saddle.  She  said  she  hoped  I 
felt  sufficiently  interested  in  the  cause 
to  get  down  and  see  if  what  skirts  she 
had  were  hanging  right. 

I  replied  that  I  would  not  stir  a  fin 
ger  for  the  cause,  but  for  the  love  I 
bore  her  I  would  dismount,  as  we  had 
come  to  a  stump. 

I  confess  that  I  was  greatly  relieved. 
I  tried  to  be  shocked  as  Amabel  sat  up 
and  took  the  bridle  rein.  She  put  one 
hand  on  her  hip,  looked  down  at  me 
and  laughed  nervously;  but  there  was 
triumph  in  her  laugh.  Her  skirts  hung 
gracefully;  she  had  the  appearance  of 
the  very  best  picture  in  that  magazine 
which  illustrated  the  reformed  method 
for  a  woman's  riding.  No,  I  really 
couldn't  be  shocked,  try  as  I  would. 

"Well?"  she  said. 

"You  ain't  half  the  guy  I  expected," 
said  Albert. 

She  still  looked  at  me,  and  she 
repeated,  "Well?" 

"On  the  whole,  I  agree  with  the 
1 80 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

previous  speaker,"  I  said.  "But" — I 
hesitated. 

"But  what?" 

"Why,  perhaps  you  can't  ride.  You 
know  you've  depended  on  the  hunting 
horn,  and  on  not  having  your  weight 
evenly  distributed.  After  all,  the  test  of 
the  thing  is  whether  you  can  ride  or  not.  " 

"I  will  ride  or  die,"  she  answered, 
like  the  brave  little  knight  she  was. 
But  she  did  not  look  like  a  knight ;  she 
still  had  the  appearance  of  a  spirited, 
well-bred,  womanly  woman,  which  she 
was,  also. 

She  gathered  the  bridle  more  closely. 

"If  I  fall,  I  trust  to  one  of  you  to 
pick  me  up.  Forward!  On!  Let  us 
go  where  glory  waits  us!" 

She  shook  the  little  whip  she  carried. 
Her  horse  cantered  forward,  and  we 
followed.  Really,  she  did  not  make 
the  notable  figure  I  had  feared  she 
would.  When  a  reform  becomes  a  fact 
we  are  not  half  as  startled  as  we  had 
expected  to  be;  it  is  remarkable  how 
181 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

quickly  the  thing  seems  commonplace, 
and  as  if  it  had  always  been  so.  The 
sun  shone,  the  earth  moved  on  serenely 
as  we  galloped  along  toward  Yarmouth 
Station.  It  is  true  that  we  met  few 
people,  but  those  whom  we  did  meet 
bore  the  shock  safely,  all  save  one  man 
who  came  along  on  a  small  load  of  hay. 
He  was  sitting  in  the  middle  of  the 
load ;  he  had  the  reins  pulled  up  over 
one  arm  so  that  he  might  have  the  use 
of  both  hands  in  lighting  his  pipe.  He 
had  made  a  hollow  of  his  hands,  to 
shield  the  flame  of  the  just-ignited 
match.  I  saw  him,  and  I  wondered 
how  he  would  be  affected.  The  result 
transcended  my  wildest  fears. 

He  was  seized  with  so  overmastering 
a  feeling  of  curiosity  that  his  lighted 
match  dropped  on  to  the  hay,  and  the 
hay  blazed  up  instantly. 

We  were  off  our  saddles  so  quickly 
that  I  have  never  known  to  this  day 
how  we  did  it. 

Albert  ran  to  the  horse  that  was 
182 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

dragging  the  cart  and  caught  the  reins 
at  the  bits. 

"Get  down!  Get  down!"  he  yelled. 
"It'll  all  be  ablaze  in  a  minute!" 

But  the  man  didn't  know  enough  to 
move.  Amabel,  a  free  and  unim 
peded  woman,  sprang  up  on  the  shaft 
and  grabbed  at  the  man's  hand.  She 
literally  pulled  him  off  the  smouldering 
load  of  hay ;  for,  being  packed  tightly, 
it  was  now  smouldering  more  than 
blazing,  but  it  would  blaze  soon 
enough. 

The  man  stood  up  and  brushed  his 
hat  down  the  front  of  his  clothes. 

"I  vum!"  he  said.  He  looked  at  his 
load  of  hay  and  then  at  Amabel,  "I  do 
vum!"  he  repeated. 

"Le's  take  out  the  horse,"  said 
Albert,  who  was  already  unfastening 
the  chain  traces.  But  the  man  was  too 
dazed  to  help ;  he  brushed  his  hat  down 
in  front  of  him  again,  brushed  it  hur 
riedly,  as  if  the  act  were  of  vital 
importance. 

183 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

I  stepped  forward  and  gave  assist 
ance  to  Albert,  and  in  a  moment  we 
had  the  horse  fastened  to  a  birch  tree  a 
few  rods  away.  Then  we  stood  and 
looked.  There  seemed  to  be  nothing 
more  to  do  but  to  look. 

"That  hay's  bound  to  burn,"  re 
marked  the  boy.  "I  don't  see's  we 
can  ring  up  the  fire  department. 
P'raps  you  won't  light  your  pipe  on 
your  next  load." 

As  he  spoke,  Albert  turned  to  the 
stranger.  I  was  sorry  for  the  man. 
He  had  dropped  his  hat  to  the  ground 
and  was  standing  bent  forward,  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"Wish't  I'd  brought  my  pitchfork," 
he  said.  "Guess  we  could  er  pitched 
off  the  top." 

"Guess  we  couldn't,"  impatiently 
returned  Albert.  "The  minute  we 
began  to  pitch  'twould  burn  still 
harder.  I  don't  want  to  pitch  burning 
hay. ' ' 

"First-class  English,"  remarked  the 
184 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

man,  desolately,  "cut  off'n  my  best 
medder;  takin'  it  over  to  Bill  Wilson's, 
in  Barnstable;  he's  short  on  hay  this 
year.  I  shan't  cut  nigh  s'  much  this 
season." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry!"  exclaimed 
Amabel. 

The  man  wheeled  slowly  about,  his 
great  feet  scarcely  stirring  in  the  dust 
of  the  road.  He  stared  a  moment  and 
then  he  said: 

"Be  ye?" 

"Yes,  yes.     It's  too  bad." 

"Wall,"  ponderously,  "it's  all  owin' 
to  you,  anyway." 

"To  me?"  indignantly. 

"Yeh;  sure's  a  gun.  I  shouldn't  er 
dropped  my  match  if  you'd  been 
ridin'  's  you'd  oughter  be'n. " 

Here  a  chuckle  from  Albert.  The 
man's  furrowed  old  face  actually 
changed  expression. 

"D'  you  think,"  he  began  again, 
"that  a  feller  c'n  see  you  ridin'  'long 
one  er  these  Christian  roads,  settin' 

185 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

a  straddle  er  your  boss,  'n'  be  respon 
sible  for  droppin'  a  lighted  match  onto 
a  load  er  hay?  By  gosh!  if  I'd  be'n 
on  top  er  load  er  gunpowder  I  sh'd 
hev  dropped  my  match  jes'  the  same. 
'N'  we'd  all  be'n  bio  wed  to  kingdom 
come  long  'fore  this.  We  wouldn't  be 
standin'  here  watchin'  my  best  English 
hay  burnin'  up.  Wonder  what  my 
wife  '11  say.  I  ain't  the  man  to  want  to 
tell  she  that  was  Eunice  Calkins  'bout 
this  fire.  She'll  want  ter  know  the 
partic'lers,  'n'  I  ain't  the  man  that 
feels  like  givin'  um  to  her.  No,  I 
ain't.  'N'  she  won't  b'lieve  um, 
either.  She'll  say  I  had  some  whisky. 
Wish't  I  had,  wish't  1  had  sumpthin' 
that'd  make  me  unconscious  for  one 
spell." 

"Where  do  you  live?"  inquired 
Amabel. 

Just  then  a  slow,  dense  wave  of 
smoke  came  from  the  cart  and  wrapped 
us  about.  There  was  hardly  a  breath 
of  air.  We  coughed  and  withdrew  still 

186 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

farther.     We  had,  before  this,  hitched 
our  horses  at  a  distance. 

"Where  do  you  live?"  again  asked 
Amabel. 

"Jest  beyend  Yarmouth  Station; 
first  house  you  come  to — stan's  end  to 
the  road ;  painted  yeller  'bout  ten  year 
ago.  You  can't  miss  it.  Ain't  no 
other  round.  Darn  it — darn  it  all,  I 
say — to  thunder!" 

"I'm  sorry  you  lay  it  to  me,"  said 
Amabel,  gently.  "Was  this  hay  very 
valuable?" 

"Twenty  dollars  a  ton — 'n'  I  had 
about  six  hunderdweight — six  hunderd 
good. ' ' 

Amabel  turned  to  her  brother. 
"Albert,"  she  said,  "what  is  the  .value 
of  600  pounds  of  hay  at  $20  a  ton?" 

"Goose!"  he  replied;  "twenty  hun 
dredweight  makes  one  ton." 

"Well?" 

"Well,"  with  some    violence,   "you 
shan't  pay  for  that  hay — you  shan't  do 
it.     You  ain't  to  blame." 
187 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"If  she  ain't,  I  sh'd  like  to  know 
who  is — that's  all  I  say,"  burst  in  the 
owner  of  the  hay.  "Here  I  be  a- 
drivin'  'long,  innersunt  as  a  lamb,  'n' 
all  to  once  there  comes  'long  a  woman 
a-gallopin'  on  a  hoss  jest  as  if  she  was 
a  man,  'n'  I  drops  my  match  on  to  the 
hay;  she  couldn't  hev  made  me  drop  it 
no  more  if  she'd  er  jogged  my  elbow 
'n  she  did.  I  don't  hold  myself  one 
grain  to  blame — but  she  that  was 
Eunice  Calkins  won't  agree  with  me. 
She  never  doos.  'Tain't  in  her  calki- 
lations  to  agree  with  me.  Mebby  the 
cart'll  go  too!  Dumbed  if  I  care! 
Hope  the  cart  will  go ! " 

The  speaker  stood  perfectly  still 
while  he  gave  utterance  to  these 
words,  but  his  eyes  glowed  under  his 
grizzled  tufts  of  brows. 

"Am,"  cried  Albert,  sharply,  "if  you 
undertake  to  pay  I'll — I'll  telegraph  to 
pa  from  Yarmouth.  You  wanted  to 
ride  this  way,  you  know  you  did.  If 
you're  going  to  begin  to  pay  for  every- 
188 


.      SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

body's  being  interested  in  you  as  you  go 
on,  I  declare  I'll  make  it  hot  for  you!" 

"You  always  make  it  hot  for  me," 
was  the  mild  response;  "besides,  it's 
my  own  money  that  Aunt  Ruth  left 
me  in  her  will.  If  I  can't  spend  money 
that  was  left  to  me " 

She  did  not  finish  her  sentence.  She 
turned  toward  the  man,  who  was 
watching  his  hay  burn;  it  was  nearly 
gone  now. 

"Is  your  house  on  the  road  to  Den 
nis?"  she  asked. 

"Yeh,  'tis." 

"We're  going  to  Dennis.  We'll 
stop  there.  I'll  explain  to  your  wife. 
If  she  also  thinks  I  ought  to  pay,  I 
will.  Perhaps  we  might  better  go 
right  on,"  to  me,  "and  leave  Albert 
to  follow." 

And  we  did  go  right  on.  I,  for  one, 
was  very  glad  to  go.  We  hurried.  It 
was  pleasant  when  we  had  gone  so  far 
that  we  couldn't  smell  the  smoke  of 
that  fire. 

189 


SAND     PN'    BUSHES 

The  silence  between  us  continued  so 
long  that  at  last  I  was  obliged  to 
break  it. 

"You  have  begun  well,"  I  said.  "I 
wonder  if  your  bill  for  damages  will  be 
large  by  the  time  we  reach  Province- 
town." 

My  friend  glanced  at  me  beseech 
ingly. 

"Don't!"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice. 

I  suppose  she  may  know  that  when 
she  has  that  kind  of  look  in  her  eyes  I 
can  say  no  more. 

We  passed  Yarmouth  Station.  The 
trains  are  few  down  here,  and  there 
was  no  train  anywhere  within  sight  or 
hearing  when  we  reached  the  place. 
No  train  and  no  man,  woman  or  child 
visible.  It  was  an  excellent  time  for  a 
reformer  to  choose.  I  still  believe  that 
Amabel  dreaded  this  station,  and  that" 
she  drew  a  breath  of  relief  when  she 
saw  its  solitary  state.  We  went  briskly 
by,  and  then  we  began  to  expect  to  see 
a  house  standing  end  to  the  road,  and 
190 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

that  had  "been  painted  yeller  'bout 
ten  year  ago. ' ' 

I  don't  know  what  were  Amabel's 
feeling's  at  the  prospect  of  meeting  she 
that  was  Eunice  Calkins;  I  know  that 
mine  were  not  pleasant,  but  they  were 
exciting. 

In  ten  minutes  we  came  within  sight 
of  a  house.  It  was  end  to  the  road, 
and  there  were  signs  of  yellow  paint 
upon  it.  It  stood  in  a  large  yard, 
from  which  every  blade  of  grass  had 
been  plucked  by  the  hens  that  were 
roaming  about.  A  lath  fence  inclosed 
the  whole.  I  need  not  say  that  there  is 
no  power  yet  discovered  that  can  make 
a  spot  so  desolate  to  look  at  as  hens. 

Even  upon  a  June  day  this  spot  was 
lonesome. 

Our  horses  walked  as  we  gazed. 

"  This  is  it, "  said  my  friend.  There 
were  two  half-grown  cockerels  in  the 
foreground  engaged  in  a  fight.  The 
gravel  flew  from  under  their  feet;  one 
of  them  was  already  bloody  about  the 
191 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

head.  The  hens  and  pullets  placidly 
stepped  around  them,  pecking  dili 
gently.  Suddenly  there  was  a  napping 
and  shooing.  A  large  woman  came 
hurriedly  down  the  steps  from  the 
front  door.  She  was  waving  an  apron 
up  and  down. 

"Now,  you  stop  it — you  stop  that,  I 
tell  you !  Shoo !  Shoo !  I  declare  there 
never  was  nothin  s'  flat's  a  rooster, 
'thout  'tis  a  man!  Here  you  be  'bout 
big  'nough  for  br'ilers  'n'  carryin'  on 
like  this.  Shoo!  I  say!" 

She  had  unfastened  her  apron  by  this 
time  and  ran  up  to  the  fighting  birds, 
who  slid  away  from  her,  but  who  con 
tinued  to  make  dives  at  each  other. 
She  tried  to  flap  her  apron  between 
them.  She  suddenly  stooped  and 
caught  one  by  its  legs  and  swung  it, 
shrieking,  in  the  air. 

"There,  you!"  she  shouted.  It  was 
at  this  moment  that  her  eye  caught  us 
as  we  sat  on  the  horses  the  other  side 
of  the  laths. 

193 


SAND     'N'    BUSHES 

She  dropped  the  hand  with  the 
rooster  in  it,  and  he  hung  gurgling  and 
gasping  by  her  side  as  she  came  for 
ward. 

"How  do  you  do?"  asked  Amabel. 

"Torrable, "  was  the  answer. 

"Did  you  come  for  fowls  or  eggs? 
We've  got  settin's  of  pure  Plymouth 
Rocks  'n*  Braymys.  There  ain't 
no  thin'  better;  I've  be'n  in  the  busi 
ness  fifteen  year  'n'  I  ought  to  know. 
Plymouth  Rock's  a  good,  all-round 
fowl,  but  if  you  want  meat  take  a 
Braymy;  though  you've  got  to  wait  for 
a  Braymy  to  grow.  You  can't  have  a 
lot  of  meat  'thout  waitin'  for  it  to 
grow." 

The  woman  was  now  standing  just 
the  other  side  of  the  fence. 

"We  didn't  come  for  fowls  or  eggs," 
Amabel  made  answer.  "We  came" 
— here  she  hesitated  and  blushed. 

"Do  you  like  that  way  of  ridin'?" 
inquired  the  woman. 

"I  think  I  shall  like  it,"  humbly 
193 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

responded    my  friend,   "but  Pve  only 
tried  it  for  about  an  hour  and  a  half. ' ' 

"I  always  did  say,"  said  the  woman 
the  other  side  of  the  fence,  "that  if  I 
ever  rode  horseback  I'd  ride  that  way. 
There  ain't  no  sort  of  reason  nor  sense 
in  any  other  way." 

Amabel  blushed  again,  but  this  time 
with  pleasure. 

"If  these  laths  weren't  here  I  would 
ask  to  shake  hands  with  you,"  she 
explained. 

"Wall,  why  can't  ye  come  in  'n'  rest 
ye?"  cordially.  "There  ain't  no  law 
aginst  it,  I  guess.  I'll  open  the  gate. 
We  keep  it  locked  'cause  somebody'd 
be  sure  to  open  it  'n'  let  half  the  fowls 
out.  I  shouldn't  have  a  minute's 
peace  if  I  didn't  keep  it  locked.  Come 
in.  I've  got  some  fresh  buttermilk. 
Some  folks  think  a  lot  of  buttermilk, 
but  I  call  it  hog  wash  myself.  Tom 
likes  it,  though.  He's  be'n  helpin'  me 
churn,  'n'  he's  be'n  drinkin'  the 
buttermilk. ' ' 

194 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

She  swung  open  a  gate  wide  enough 
for  a  carriage.  The  wicked  rooster  was 
still  dangling  from  her  hand  and  occa 
sionally  making  its  gurgling  sound. 

We  rode  in;  the  hens  hustled  away 
before  us ;  from  somewhere  in  the  rear 
we  heard  the  startled  quacking  of 
ducks.  A  flock  of  fan-tailed  pigeons 
flew  up  into  sight  from  the  gable  end 
of  a  barn  that  was  visible  as  we  fol 
lowed  our  hostess. 

Amabel  turned  her  head  toward  me. 

"It's  all  so  different  from  what  I 
expected,"  she  said,  hurriedly.  "Do 
you  think  she  is " 

"Come  right  into  the  barn,"  called 
the  woman,  "  'n'  get  off." 

She  opened  the  door  of  a  small  coop, 
thrust  in  the  rooster,  slammed  the  door 
and  hooked  it,  leaving  the  bird  in  soli 
tary  confinement.  Before  the  door 
was  really  shut  we  heard  him  crowing, 
hoarsely  and  immaturely.  The  woman 
laughed. 

"He's  a  reg'lar  fighter,"  she  re- 
195 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

marked,  "but  fighters  ain't  good  for 
much  either  for  meat  nor  eggs.  You 
wait  a  minute,"  to  us,  "  'n'  I'll  bring 
a  stool — or  here's  a  carpenter's  hoss; 
I  do  considerable  carpent'rin'  myself 
— my  husband' s  one  of  them  kind  that 
can't  drive  a  nail — takes  hold  of  the 
hammer  way  up  on  the  handle,  you 
know.  It  jest  makes  me  sick  to  see 
him  with  a  hammer." 

While  she  was  speaking  she  had 
placed  the  wooden  horse  by  Amabel's 
horse  and  Amabel  alighted;  she  said 
afterward  that  she  didn't  know  how  she 
ever  did  it,  but  she  thought  that  hav 
ing  done  it  once  she  could  do  it  again. 

"I  tell  you  what  'tis,"  said  the 
woman,  "I'm  mighty  glad  that  some 
body's  got  a  grain  of  common  sense," 
looking  pointedly  away  from  me  and  at 
Amabel.  "Now,  come  in.  You  look 
hot.  It's  a  dretful  pleasant  time  of 
year,  ain't  it?  If  'twan't  for  my  hens, 
'n'  ducks,  'n'  things  I'd  like  to  go  off 
somewhere  myself.  Se'  down,  do." 
196 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

We  were  in  the  kitchen.  "It's  cooler 
here  this  time  of  day.  Tom, ' '  raising 
her  voice,  "can't  you  bring  in  a  pitcher 
of  buttermilk  'n'  some  tumblers?" 

We  heard  a  sound  in  what  seemed  to 
be  a  shed.  Then  there  entered,  not  a 
boy,  as  we  had  expected,  but  a  tall 
young  man  in  sweater,  and  long  stock 
ings,  and  wheeling  shoes.  He  bore  a 
board  on  which  stood  a  pitcher  and 
glasses.  His  closely  shorn  head  was 
bare;  from  his  extremely  brown  face 
his  eyes  twinkled  greatly.  He  laughed 
as  he  saw  us.  He  scraped  one  foot 
behind  him  and  said : 

"Servant,  ladies." 

We  stared,  and  then  we  also  laughed. 
Reader,  we  have  met  this  young  man 
before,  for  his  name  is  Thomas  J. 
Riddle. 


197 


VIII 

AT    TWENTY    DOLLARS    A    TON 

"You  see,"  said  Mr.  Riddle,  as  we 
took  our  buttermilk,  "there  really  is 
but  one  road  to  the  Cape,  and  we're 
all  on  it ;  consequently  we're  bound  to 
meet  now  and  then;  I  hope  you  won't 
mind  it  very  much." 

"But  I  thought  you  were  to  stop  in 
Middleborough — at  the  lakes,"  said 
Amabel. 

"So  I  did,  a  half  hour  or  so." 
Then  something  seemed  to  amuse  Mr. 
Riddle,  for  he  smiled  to  himself,  as  it 
were,  gazing  into  his  tumbler  of  butter 
milk  as  he  did  so. 

"Tom's  goin'  down  to  the  Cape  to 
learn  his  part,"  remarked  our  hostess, 
with  some  pride. 

We  glanced  at  the  young  man,  but 
199 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

we  did  not  think  it  proper  to  manifest 
our  surprise  and  curiosity  by  any 
words. 

"Tom's  in  a  theaytre,"  went  on  the 
woman.  "I  tell  him  I  shan't  know 
bime-by  whether  he's  in  earnest  or  only 
actin'.  Much  as  ever  I  could  tell,  any 
way." 

Mr.  Riddle  laughed  again. 

"Aunt  Eunice  can't  decide  whether 
she  ought  to  be  proud  or  ashamed  of 
me.  When  I  come  out  as  the  first 
actor  in  America,  she'll  be  just  as 
undecided.  You  see,  'tisn't  the  fame, 
it's  the  profession  that  influences  her." 

He  glanced  at  Amabel,  who  said: 
"Yes?"  tentatively,  and  then,  with 
more  animation,  "That's  why  you 
thought  of  painting  it  out,  I  suppose." 

"I  beg  your  pardon." 

"Oh,"  returned  Amabel,  in  some 
confusion,  "I  ought  not  to  have  men 
tioned  it.  Miss  Langthorne's  cheek, 
you  know,  where  the  kitten  scratched 
her.  I  thought  'twas  so  odd." 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Oh,  I  see."  Mr.  Riddle  came 
nearer  to  Amabel  and  sat  down  on  a 
stool.  "I  make  up  so  much  that  natur 
ally  I  thought  that  she  could  easily  hide 
that  scratch.  She  looked  lovely  at 
General  Jones's,  didn't  she?"  with 
some  enthusiasm. 

"Very,"  replied  Amabel,  without 
any  enthusiasm. 

"Jones  married  my  cousin  for  his 
second  wife,"  explained  Mr.  Riddle. 
"I  go  there  when  I'm  in  these  diggings. 
I  left  my  evening  suit  there  last  week ; 
that's  why  I  was  so  fine  the  other  even 
ing.  It  was  rather  embarrassing  to 
be  the  finest  fellow  at  the  lawn  party. " 

Mr.  Riddle  laughed  so  heartily  that 
we  all  joined  him.  In  the  midst  of  this 
hilarity  Amabel  suddenly  grew  grave, 
and  exclaimed: 

"Oh,  I'd  forgotten!" 

Mr.  Riddle  instantly  became  grave 
also. 

"Anything  of  importance?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,    yes.       We     ought     to    have 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

spoken  of  it  immediately. ' '  She  turned 
to  me  and  asked,  reproachfully,  "Why 
didn't  you  mention  it?" 

"I  was  waiting  for  you,"  I  replied. 

Amabel  rose  and  went  to  our  hostess, 
who  was  standing  in  the  doorway. 
Amabel  put  a  hand  on  the  big  arm 
near  her. 

"I  don't  know  as  you'll  speak  to  us 
after  I've  told  you,"  began  Amabel. 

"Good  gracious!" 

"But  I  feel  that  we're  deceiving  you. 
And  we've  drank  your  buttermilk,  you 
know." 

"My  sakes!" 

These  exclamations  were  fired  off  in 
a  disconcerting  way. 

"And  you  approved  of  having  the 
weight  distributed  evenly  on  the  horse's 
back — and — oh,  I  wish  you  would  tell 
us  if  you  really  are  she  that  was  Eunice 
Calkins — please!" 

"Yes,  I  be.  But  I  don't  see  what 
that  has  to  do  with " 

"Oh,   yes,   it  has  everything  to    do 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

with  it.  You  might  have  been  some 
body  else,  you  know.  And  this  house 
ends  to  the  road,  and  was  painted  yel 
low.  I  was  afraid  that  we  might  be 
mistaken,  but  we're  not.  You  see, 
Mrs. — Mrs. ' ' 

"My  husband's  name  is  Doane,"  with 
some  severity. 

"Mrs  Doane,  we've  been  and  burned 
up  your  husband's  hay  that  he  was 
taking  to  Bill  Wilson,  in  Barnstable." 

"Speak  for  yourself,  Amabel,"  I 
said. 

"I  will,"  courageously.  "I  don't 
want  to  be  mean.  I've  burned  the  hay 
— six  hundred  pounds  at  $20  a  ton. 
Albert  says  that  twenty  hundredweight 
make  one  ton.  If  I  had  a  pencil  and  a 
bit  of  paper  I  could  soon  find  out  how 
much  that  would  be  a  pound." 

Here  Mrs.  Doane  walked  heavily 
across  the  room  and  sat  down.  There 
was  an  apprehensive  expression  upon 
her  large  face.  She  folded  her  arms 
tightly  in  front  of  her. 
203 


SAND   'N'    BUSHES 

"What  made  you  burn  the  hay?"  she 
asked. 

Mr.  Riddle  was  leaning  forward  with 
his  elbows  on  his  knees.  He  was  look 
ing  at  Amabel.  I  heard  him  murmur : 

"Jolly  good  pose." 

"I'll  tell  you  about  it,"  eagerly. 

"You'd  better.  As  'tis  now,  I  sh'd 
almost  think  you'd  come  from  a 
'sylum." 

"Oh,  no!  I'm  just  as  sane  as  ever  I 
was.  We  were  riding  along " 

"Where  is  Mr.  Doane  now?" 

"Back  there  somewhere;  he  and  my 
brother.  They're  going  to  try  to  save 
the  cart,  and ' ' 

"Oh,  you  didn't  burn  the  cart,  then?" 

"No;  at  least,  I  don't  think  we 
— I  did.  We  were ' ' 

"Did  Mr.  Doane  git  singed  any?" 

Here  Mr.  Riddle  suddenly  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands.  His  shoulders 
shook,  but  I  cannot  state  whether  he 
was  laughing  or  crying. 

"No;  I  don't  think  he  did.  I  pulled 
204. 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

him  off  the  load.  You  see,  it  was 
blazing,  and " 

"He  didn't  know  enough  to  git 
down?" 

"No;  he  didn't  seem  to.  But  I  got 
him  off.  You  see,"  and  Amabel  began 
to  speak  very  fast,  indeed,  as  if  fearing 
another  interruption,  "we  were  riding 
along,  my  brother  on  a  wheel,  and  we 
met  Mr.  Doane  on  a  load  of  hay.  He 
was  lighting  his  pipe,  and  when — he — 
saw — me — he  dropped  his  match  on  the 
hay  and  it  blazed  right  up,  of  course. ' ' 

"Enoch  always  was  a  bright  man!" 
cried  his  wife. 

"Mr.  Doane  was  so  interested  in — 
seeing — me  that  he  seemed  to  forget  to 
get  off  the  load. ' ' 

"He's  too  bright  to  live!"  cried  his 
wife. 

Mr.  Riddle  still  kept  his  face  covered. 

"Of  course  we  couldn't  put  it  out — 
the  fire,  I  mean,  and  we  stood  round 
and  saw  it  burn.  We  saved  the  horse. 
Mr.  Doane  said  it  was  all  my  fault. 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

He  called  me  responsible.  He  said  if 
he'd  been  on  a  load  of  gunpowder  and 
had  seen  me  coming  along — weight 
evenly  distributed,  you  know — he 
should  have  dropped  his  match  just  the 
same." 

Here  a  stifled  noise  from  Mr.  Riddle. 

"I  offered  to  pay  for  the  hay,  since 
he  felt  like  that,  but  my  brother 
objected.  Finally  I  said  that  if — if  she 
that  was  Eunice  Calkins  thought  I 
ought  to  pay,  I'd  do  it.  And  I  will." 

Amabel  advanced  to  a  chair  and  took 
a  firm  grip  of  the  back  of  it.  Her 
cheeks  were  burning;  her  eyes  shone 
with  her  high  resolve. 

Mr.  Riddle  had  now  raised  his  head. 
He  was  solemnly  gazing  at  Amabel. 

Mrs.  Doane  rose.  She  glanced  at 
her  nephew. 

"Tom,"  she  said,  "shouldn't  you  be 
everlastin'ly  ashamed  of  me  if  I  took 
that  money?" 

"Oh,  I  know  what  you'll  do,  Aunt 
Eunice,"  was  the  reply. 
206 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"I'll  bet  you  do.  I  ain't  so  far  gone 
as  Enoch  Doane  is — not  yet.  He  never 
hit  the  nail  on  the  head  in  his  life. 
You  shan't  pay  a  cent.  My  sakes! 
When's  that  man  comin'  home?" 

"He  didn't  say.  I  don't  care  so 
much  for  the  money,  though  I  haven't 
much,  as  I  do  for  the  principle  of  the 
thing,"  said  Amabel,  plaintively.  "I 
should  like  to  know  if  you  think  I  was 
to  blame.  I  can't  go  on  along  down 
the  Cape  spreading  disaster,  you  know. 
I  can't  be  responsible.  I  can  give  up 
going,  if  necessary,  but  if  I  go  I  must 
ride  just  as  I  please.  You  see,  Mrs. 
Doane,  it's  a  principle.  And  I'm  a 
member  of  the  Society  for  the  Sup 
pression  of  Cruelty  to  Animals.  And, 
Mrs.  Doane,  I  wanted  to  tell  you  at  the 
time,  but  I  hadn't  the  moral  courage, 
that  you  ought  not  to  carry  a  fowl  with 
its  head  hanging  down.  It  isn't 
natural;  it's  unkind.  It  must  confuse 
the  fowl  extremely." 

Mrs.  Doane  gave  a  short  laugh. 
207 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"I  guess,"  she  said,  "I  won't  spend 
my  time  thinkin'  of  them  roosters  jest 
now.  There's  Enoch  Doane  to  be 
considered.  Besides,  the  roosters  are 
used  to  it.  They  don't  know 'nough  to 
sense  whether  their  heads  are  up  or 
down.  It's  all  one  to  them.  'N 
Enoch  Doane 's  a  good  deal  like  'um. 
I've  got  a  few  words  I'd  like  to  speak 
to  him.  D'you  say  he  was  on  his 
way?" 

"I  think  he  is." 

Amabel's  face  wore  an  expression  of 
perplexity  and  distress. 

"Mebby, "  said  the  wife,  sarcastic 
ally,  "he's  a-stayin'  to  see  the  cart 
burn." 

"Somehow,  I  feel  to  blame,"  ex 
claimed  Amabel.  "I  shall  be  happier 
if  I  pay  for  the  hay. ' ' 

She  began  to  try  to  find  a  pocket  in 
her  skirt;  then  she  remembered  that 
this  was  not  the  old  skirt  that  she  was 
wearing,  but  a  divided  one,  into  which 
no  pocket  had  been  sewed  She  colored 
208 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

deeply,  her  eyes  fell;  she  sank  down 
quickly  in  the  nearest  chair,  crossed  her 
feet,  and  sat  gazing  at  them. 

In  the  silence  that  followed  we  heard 
the  comfortable  little  sounds  made  by 
the  hens  as  they  walked  about  in  front 
of  the  open  door.  A  mother  Plymouth 
Rock  paused  at  the  step  and  clucked 
frantically;  her  brood  of  speckled 
things  came  rushing  up  full  of  eager 
inquiry. 

Before  any  one  spoke  and  while 
Amabel  was  satisfying  herself  that  her 
purse  was  not  in  one  of  her  jacket 
pockets,  there  came  another  sound  that 
made  Mrs.  Doane  rise  to  her  feet  with 
significant  promptness. 

It  was  the  sound  of  wheels  moving 
slowly  over  the  sandy  road. 

We  all  rose  in  the  next  moment,  with 
faces  turned  toward  the  door.  We 
heard  the  lath  gate  swing  open,  then 
the  immature  voice  of  Albert  saying 
something  indistinguishable;  then  the 
wheels  came  nearer.  They  went  on  to 
209 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

the  barn,  which  stood  a  little  back  of 
the  house. 

Mrs.  Doane  walked  out  of  the  room ; 
she  took  hasty,  long  steps.  We  all 
felt  an  exciting  sense  of  something.  I 
have  a  temptation  to  state  that  the  air 
was  lurid.  Mr.  Riddle  glanced  at  me 
and  murmured: 

"Red  and  green  fire  at  the  wings — 
high  light  following  the  figure  of  Enoch 
Doane 's  wife." 

Then  the  young  man  rose. 

"I  ought  to  protect  Doane,"  he  said. 
"Please  come  with  me." 

We  followed  him,  keeping  a  few 
paces  behind.  In  the  barnyard  we 
found  that  the  fantailed  pigeons,  being 
tame,  had  come  in  a  body  to  examine 
the  charred  condition  of  the  farm 
wagon. 

Albert's  wheel  was  lying  in  the  bot 
tom  of  the  cart;  he  and  Mr.  Doane 
were  still  standing  in  the  cart  when  we 
all  emerged  upon  the  scene. 

"Wall,  Eunice,  here  I  be,"  said  Mr. 

3  IP 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Doane,  with  an  attempt  at  joviality 
that  was  nothing  less  than  heartrend 
ing  to  us  who  might  be  called  disinter 
ested  spectators. 

"Met  with  a  little  accident,  's  you 
might  say;  but  I  guess  the  cart's  good 
for  consid' able  more  yet." 

He  put  one  blackened  hand  on  the 
horse's  haunch  and  carefully  de 
scended  to  the  ground.  Albert 
jumped  out  over  the  side,  and  ran  to 
begin  to  unharness.  I  saw  him  make 
up  his  mouth  to  whistle  when  he  had 
recognized  Mr.  Riddle. 

Mrs.  Doane  came  boldly  into  the 
foreground.  I  felt  that  I  could  greatly 
like  this  woman  who  had  been  born  a 
Calkins,  but  at  this  moment  I  was  sorry 
for  Enoch  Doane.  He  was  unbuckling 
the  reins ;  he  pulled  one  strap  through 
the  ring  at  the  bits. 

"I    guess  the    cart's  good   for  con- 

sid'able  more  yet,"  he  repeated;  and 

he  tried  to  laugh  ingratiatingly.      He 

added:  "We  saved  the  cart.     We  had 

211 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

to  work  desp'rit  hard,  but  we  saved  it. 
That's  one  thing  to  be  thankful  for." 

"What  d'you  save  the  cart  from?" 
Mrs.  Doane  put  this  question.  She 
went  on  to  say  that  it  was  "dretful 
hard  to  have  patience  with  some  kinds 
of  fools." 

"Saved  it  from  fire,"  replied  Mr. 
Doane,  quaveringly,  "  'n'  we  had  to 
work  desp'rit  hard  to  do  it." 

He  led  the  horse  forward,  and  the 
shafts  dropped  with  a  clatter  to  the 
ground.  The  doves  fluttered  upward, 
but  came  back  directly. 

Mr.  Riddle  suddenly  stepped  to  the 
front.  He  put  his  arm  about  Mrs. 
Doane. 

"Come  now,  Aunt  Eunice,  let's  let 
the  poor  man  go  this  time.  Of  course, 
he's  an  idiot ;  you  see,  a  poor  manbody 
has  to  work  awfully  hard  not  to  be  an 
idiot." 

Mrs.  Doane 's  face  softened  a  very 
little. 

"I  wasn't  going  to  say  much  of  any- 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

thing,"  she  replied,  "but  I  guess  you 
don't  know  about  your  Uncle  Enoch. 
But  what's  the  use" — with  a  large 
gesture  of  her  right  hand.  "Long's  I 
married  him,  I  ought  to  put  up  with 
him." 

Here  the  speaker  turned  toward  us 
and  smiled  as  she  said: 

"That's  jest  the  amount  of  marriage 

'tain't  nothin'  but  a  puttin'  up  with 
things  you  can't  help." 

Mr.  Doane  disappeared  within  the 
barn  and  Albert  followed  him. 

"I  wish  you  folks  would  stay  'n' 
have  some  luncheon,"  went  on  Mrs. 
Doane.  "Enoch — he's  got  some  cider 
he  bottled  last  fall.  I  will  say  for  him 
that  he  does  know  how  to  bottle  cider. 
It's  prime.  Tom,  you  go  down  cellar 
'n'  git  three  or  four  bottles  'n'  put  um 
in  the  ice  chest. " 

Mr.     Riddle    disappeared.       We    re 
turned    to    the   house.      Amabel,   who 
has  a  peculiar  way  of  making  herself  at 
home    when    she    chooses,    was    soon 
213 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

kindling  a  fire  in  the  kitchen  stove; 
then  she  beat  eggs  for  the  omelet  which 
she  offered  to  make,  an  omelet  with 
fine  herbs,  and  Mr.  Riddle  brought  the 
herbs  from  the  attic  and  waited  upon 
Amabel  with  assiduity.  Mr.  Doane 
finally  came  in  and  began  to  scrub  him 
self  with  yellow  soap  and  water  at  the 
sink,  emerging  from  the  process  very 
red  and  hopeful.  I  heard  him  tell 
Amabel  in  an  undertone  that  she 
needn't  mind  paying  for  that  hay. 
He'd  thought  over  the  matter  and  he 
guessed  Eunice  was  right  'bout  idiots 
and — men.  Here  he  grinned  and 
lumbered  away. 

It  was  all  very  enjoyable — idyllic, 
Amabel  called  it,  and  perhaps  she  was 
right.  The  windows  and  doors  of  the 
kitchen  were  open;  the  scents  of  the 
June  day  came  in ;  there  was  an  apple 
orchard  at  the  back  of  the  house,  and 
there  were  robins  rearing  families  in 
the  orchard.  At  Mr.  Riddle's  request 
the  table  was  not  set,  but  he  carried 
214 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

about  plates  and  napkins  and  bread  and 
doughnuts,  and  spoonfuls  of  omelet  on 
the  plates,  and  there  were  thick  tum 
blers  with  cider  in  them.  We  ate  and 
drank,  and  Mr.  Doane  became  very 
much  at  his  ease,  and  made  some 
obscure  jokes  which  no  one  understood 
until  they  had  been  explained,  and 
then  \ve  all  laughed  boisterously. 
Everything  was  so  unexpected  that  we 
were  very  happy. 

At  the  end  of  the  feast  Mrs.  Doane 
asked  her  nephew  if  he  wouldn't 
"recite  something." 

This  request  sobered  the  young  man 
immediately. 

"The  Blood  Drinker's  Burial,"  sug 
gested  Amabel.  "We  have  been  too 


Mr.  Riddle  rose  and  went  to  the  end 
of  the  room  which  was  the  most  in 
shadow,  and  began  about  "The  Fair 
Imogene,"  and  went  on  concerning  the 
worms  that  gnawed  her,  not  sparing  us 
a  single  detail,  and  he  did  it  so 
215 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

sepulchrally  that  I  was  angry  with 
him,  and  wished  to  tell  him  that  he 
ought  to  have  known  better. 

Mrs.  Doane  informed  him  when  he 
was  through  with  his  recital  that  she 
was  sorry  she  had.  asked  him,  and  that 
now  she  felt  obliged  to  do  something  to 
take  the  taste  of  those  worms  away. 

She  rose  and  opened  a  stand  drawer. 
She  took  out  a  jewsharp  and  wiped  it 
carefully  with  her  apron.  She  glanced 
toward  her  husband. 

"S'pos'n  we  try  'Money  Musk,' 
Enoch?' '  she  said.  "Or  have  you  got  so 
old  'n'  stiff  you  can't  do  it  any  more?" 

Mr.  Doane  nodded.  He  also  pulled 
open  the  stand  drawer  and  took  from 
it  what  we  call  a  "coarse  comb" — not 
so  very  coarse,  either,  but,  as  Mr. 
Doane  afterward  said,  "about  mejum. " 
He  then  went  to  a  closet  and  selected  a 
fragment  from  a  carefully  preserved 
store  of  brown  wrapping  paper.  This 
fragment  he  adjusted  over  the  teeth 
of  the  comb.  He  placed  himself  just 
216 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

behind  his  wife's  chair,  tried  his  instru 
ment  by  a  few  preliminary  toots  with 
his  lips  pressed  upon  the  paper-covered 
comb.  Then  he  said : 

"All  aboard,  Ma.     Fire  away!" 

If  you  have  never  heard  the  tripping 
measure  of  "Money  Musk"  played 
upon  a  jewsharp  and  a  comb,  you  have 
no  idea  of  the  entertainment  we  now 
enjoyed. 

Mr.  Riddle  got  up  and  danced, 
mostly  on  his  toes,  with  an  occasional 
accentuated  stamp  down  on  his  heels, 
gyrating  about  the  room.  Albert 
cried  out,  "Oh,  if  I  only  had  my 
bones!"  referring,  not  to  his  own 
anatomy,  but  to  so-called  musical 
instruments  which  he  had  left  at  home. 

It  was  a  very  pleasant  hour,  and 
when  at  last  we  were  on  our  way 
again,  Amabel  avowed  an  intention  of 
writing  it  up  in  what  she  called  her 
day  book.  This  is  something  in  blank 
writing  paper  bound  in  olive  green ;  it 
is  more  than  two  inches  thick,  but  it 
217 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

has  not  what  Amabel  denominates  a 
large  acreage.  Sometimes,  when  we 
have  reached  a  temporary  stopping- 
place,  my  friend  takes  a  small  pencil 
from  its  socket  at  the  edge  of  the 
cover  and  writes  in  her  day  book. 
From  the  first  I  have  been  very  curious 
to  know  what  is  put  down  in  those 
pages.  When  I  question  her,  Amabel 
makes  answer  that  she  is  writing  for 
posterity.  I  am  half  resolved  that  I 
will  anticipate  posterity. 

Now  we  cantered  comfortably  away 
from  the  Doanes'  toward  Dennis.  We 
left  the  railroad  at  our  right  and  fol 
lowed  the  stage  route  to  East  Dennis. 
When  it  was  practicable  we  had  re 
solved  to  keep  as  near  the  coast  as 
possible.  As  Albert  asserted,  it  was 
the  shore  and  the  sea  we  were  after. 
Perhaps  there  is  no  place  in  the  world 
where  one  can  get  so  much  shore  and 
sea  as  when  traveling  on  the  Massa 
chusetts  peninsula  below  Brewster. 
But  we  could  not  get  too  much.  It  was 
218 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

glorious  to  feel  that  when  the  wind 
came  from  the  west  and  the  south  it 
was  sweeping'  over  the  salt  water; 
when  it  came  from  the  east  or  the 
north  it  was  also  from  the  salt  water. 
The  scent  of  the  brine  was  strong  in 
our  nostrils.  That  salt  dampness  must 
be  very  good  for  the  growth  of  the 
cranberry.  The  Cape  Cod  cranberry 
commands  the  highest  price  in  the 
market.  Amabel  put  this  item  down 
in  her  day  book;  she  said  it  was 
almost  the  only  plain  fact  she  had  yet 
recorded.  She  informed  me  that  she 
did  not  "go  in  for  facts  so  much  as  for 
suggested  ideas;  anybody  could  make 
a  collection  of  facts. ' ' 

The  inference  was  that  suggested 
ideas  were  not  so  easily  caught.  It  was 
pleasant  riding  along  this  almost  soli 
tary  road  with  little  save  crows  and 
chipmunks  to  look  at  us.  The  robins 
and  bluebirds  noticed  us  little.  The 
"going"  was  rather  heavy,  and  was 
growing  heavier.  But  we  who  were 
219 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

riding  horses  did  not  particularly  mind 
this.  Albert,  however,  began  to  labor. 
He  puffed  and  groaned  as  his  feet 
forced  the  wheels  round  through  the 
sand.  His  sister  professed  not  to  pity 
him.  Now  was  her  hour  of  triumph. 

"You  knew,"  she  said,  "that  we 
were  coming  down  on  the  Cape;  you 
knew  that  it  wasn't  a  wheel  that  you 
needed,  but  a  horse.  Now  aren't  you 
sorry  for  what  you've  said  about  our 
horses?  The  scoffer  is  frequently 
punished." 

"Oh,  shut  up,  can't  you?"  was  the 
response. 

For  many  weary  half-miles  Albert 
walked  beside  his  wheel,  frequently 
mopping  his  face.  Sometimes  there 
would  be  a  little  stretch  where  the  way 
was  more  solid,  then  he  pedaled  with 
an  air  of  exultation. 

"I  wonder  how  Riddle's  going  to  get 
over  these  tarnal  roads,"  said  Albert. 

We  had  wondered  also.  Mr.  Riddle 
had  bidden  us  an  apparently  eternal 
220 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

farewell  when  we  had  left  Mrs. 
Doane's  house  that  ended  to  the  road. 
Speaking  strictly  for  myself,  I  had 
liked  Mr.  Riddle  very  much  better 
since  I  had  seen  him  dance  "Money 
Musk"  by  the  music  of  the  jewsharp 
and  comb.  I  liked  him,  but  I  could  be 
perfectly  reconciled  if  I  never  met 
him  again.  It  was,  therefore,  with  no 
wild  thrill  of  joy  that,  when  we  rode 
up  to  the  public  house  at  Wellfleet,  the 
first  object  I  saw  distinctly  was  a  tall 
figure  in  knickerbockers  leaning 
against  the  frame  of  the  door.  This 
figure  was  one  of  some  half  a  dozen, 
but  the  others  I  saw  vaguely. 

Mr.  Riddle  came  promptly  forward. 
There  was  something  in  his  manner,  as 
he  hastened  to  Amabel's  side,  that 
hinted  that  he,  for  one,  was  perfectly 
accustomed  to  seeing  women  ride  horse 
back  in  that  way,  and  that  those  people 
who  stared  and  were  surprised,  not  to 
say  shocked,  at  this  position,  were 
people  who  really  did  not  know  what 

221 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

women  were  doing  in  the  great  world 
that  was  outside  the  Cape. 

This  impressiveness  of  Mr.  Riddle 
continued  as  he  accompanied  Amabel 
up  the  steps,  carrying  his  cap  in  his 
hand.  He  was  bending  his  head 
toward  her  and  laughing  at  something 
she  had  said. 

Albert  compassionately  came  to  my 
side  to  see  that  my  skirt  did  not  catch 
on  the  horn  as  I  dismounted.  I  told 
him  distinctly  that  I  could  dismount 
perfectly  well  alone  and  that  he 
needn't  trouble  himself. 

In  the  bit  of  a  parlor  Mr.  Riddle  was 
still  laughing,  and  Amabel  was  smil 
ing.  I  wondered  what  it  was  that  was 
so  amusing.  The  young  man  ex 
plained  that  he  had  come  on  ahead  of 
us  and  had  dropped  a  word  all  along 
the  way  about  the  millionaire  heiress 
who  had  resolved  to  take  a  horseback 
ride  on  a  man's  saddle.  She  had 
exhausted  every  known  amusement, 
and  had  taken  a  fancy  to  try  this,  and 
222 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

to  act  as  if  she  were  not  a  millionaire 
heiress. 

"I  told  'em,"  said  Mr.  Riddle,  "that 
she  had  been  bothered  to  death  to 
think  of  ways  in  which  to  spend 
her  money  so  fast  that  it  shouldn't 
rot.  Now,  hasn't  everybody  been 
respectful,  tell  me  that?  Paralyzed 
with  curiosity,  of  course,  but  respect 
ful.  And  I've  dropped  a  word  as 
to  a  prospect  that  the  heiress  might 
buy  up  the  country  from  Orleans  down 
to  Race  Point  and  make  it  into  one 
vast  cranberry  bog.  Wipe  out  the 
towns,  you  know;  plant  cranberries 
right  through.  The  price  of  land  has 
gone  up  ten  per  cent  within  twenty- 
four  hours.  Don't  buy  now,  while  the 
boom  is  on,  Miss  Waldo;  wait." 

He  turned  to  Amabel  with  this  advice. 

A  girl  with  the  largest  puffs  1  had 
yet  seen  on  sleeves  now  appeared  at 
the  door  and  asked  if  we  would  like  to 
see  the  rooms.  Amabel  and  I  fol 
lowed  the  sleeves  and  their  wearer  up 
223 


SAND   'N'    BUSHES 

the  stairs.  We  selected  a  room  from 
whose  windows  we  had  a  view  of 
Wellfleet  Bay  and  its  sheltering  line  of 
islands,  and  beyond,  the  wider  stretch 
of  Cape  Cod  Bay,  where  there  were 
long  swells,  the  tops  here  and  there 
breaking  into  white  foam,  for  the  tide 
had  turned  to  come  in  and  the  wind 
was  "veering." 

The  next  day  we  meant  to  reach 
Provincetown.  Our  rooms  were  en 
gaged  for  an  indefinite  time  at  the 
Pacific  House.  We  had  engaged 
rooms  there  because  a  friend  who  had 
been  there  assured  us  that  the  landlord 
of  that  hotel  not  only  knew  how  fish 
ought  to  be  cooked,  but  that  he  cooked 
them  himself,  and  that  the  place 
wasn't  "stylish."  We  said  we  could 
endure  anything  but  style. 

Meantime,  here  we  were  in  Wellfleet, 
which  is  a  place  "of  sandhills  and  pine 
plains,  among  which  are  fifteen  fresh 
water  ponds;  and  the  climate  is  re 
markably  healthy. ' ' 
224 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

It  seemed  a  good  locality  in  which  to 
remain.  We  could  not  reasonably 
expect  anywhere  else  so  many  fresh 
water  ponds  in  so  small  a  space.  Town 
incorporated  in  1763.  Population, 
968.  Registered  voters,  268.  One  can 
judge  at  once  how  small  a  proportion 
of  the  inhabitants  govern  the  rest,  who 
are  presumably  idiots  and  women — 
and  children.  Valuation,  $670,165  ;  rate 
of  taxation,  $8.  No  debt.  No  license. 

It  will  be  seen  that  this  was  an  excel 
lent  spot  whereon  an  errant  heiress 
might  pitch  her  tent,  particularly  if  she 
were  economically  inclined ;  one  might 
save  a  great  deal  of  money  in  Wellfleet ; 
and  if  one  dwelt  here  long  enough  an 
occupation  might  be  chosen — there  is  a 
choice  between  cranberry  culture, 
farming,  fishing  and  the  making  of 
razor-strops.  Perhaps  the  latter  busi 
ness  is  particularly  exhilarating.  This 
was  the  first  time  in  her  life,  Amabel 
said,  that  she  had  traced  the  razor  strop 
to  its  lair. 

225 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

We  liked  those  wide,  flat  stretches  of 
cranberry  bog  intersected  by  the  nar 
row  ditches.  The  salt  wind  blew 
across  these  flats  with  a  freedom  that 
gave  one  a  deeper  breath ;  the  color  in 
mass  is  a  curious  gray-green;  unless 
the  vines  are  thickly  grown  the  sand 
gleams  below  the  leaves.  Later,  when 
the  red  berries  have  grown,  I  should 
like  to  come  down  here  and  pick  them 
at  so  much  a  quart;  but  I  would  not 
wish  to  be  the  one  of  a  long  line  of 
pickers ;  I  would  like  to  be  by  myself, 
with  not  a  human  being  in  sight  on  the 
whole  flat.  The  wind  should  rush  over 
from  the  Atlantic  Ocean  to  Cape  Cod 
Bay  for  me  alone ;  I  would  be  the  only 
one  to  see  the  lovely  tints  that  the 
autumn  lays  upon  this  coast — pale  tints 
— no  suggestion  of  a  rich  life,  but 
charming  beyond  any  opulence  of 
color. 

If  we  had  not  wished  to  go  to  the 
land's  end  we  might  have  remained  a 
long  time  in  Wellfleet.  It  is,  as  one 
226 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

might  say,  the  gate  of  the  land's  end; 
from  here  the  sea  grows  even  more 
intimate,  the  salt  stronger.  But  this 
town  shows  its  decadence  in  a  sort  of 
sad  cheerfulness.  The  number  of 
inhabitants  is  growing  smaller  and 
smaller,  notwithstanding  that  it  is  so 
healthy  here.  It  is  not  even  a  resort. 
I  should  hesitate  to  say  for  what  a  small 
sum  we  could  buy  a  house  with  the  bay 
in  sight  from  its  upper  windows;  "two 
stories,  blinded,  with  piazza,  in  good 
repair,  only  needing  paint. ' ' 

I  have  had  a  secret  longing  for  that 
house  ever  since  I  saw  it.  How  salt 
the  wind  that  blows  about  it!  How 
full  of  memories  of  that  sea  cap'n  and 
his  family  who  all  now  sleep  in  the 
burial  yard !  And  over  the  burial  yard 
blows  that  same  salt  wind. 


227 


IX 


PROVINCETOWN      AND     THE 

GONZ AG AS 

The  next  morning,  when  we  wakened 
in  Wellfleet,  while  we  were  thinking 
we  ought  to  rise  and  yet  could  not 
quite  resolve  to  do  it,  I  asked  Amabel 
if  she  thought  it  was  in  any  way 
remarkable  that  Mr.  Thomas  J.  Rid 
dle  seemed  to  pervade  our  journey  to 
Provincetown. 

She  was  evidently  very  sleepy,  for  I 
could  but  just  understand  her  reply, 
which  was  to  the  effect  that  of  course 
any  one  who  was  going  to  the  Cape  by 
any  other  conveyance  than  the  steam 
cars,  that  is,  by  land,  would  naturally 
be  "met  up  with"  often  by  others  who 
were  traveling  in  the  same  direction. 
229 


SAND    'N'   BUSHES 

"No,"  quite  to  the  point  now,  "I  don't 
think  it  remarkable. ' ' 

I  was  silent  a  moment.  Then  I 
wondered  aloud  if  Miss  Lily  Lang- 
thorne  and  her  friend  Sue  were 
coming  down  any  further  than  Mid- 
dleborough;  and  if  they  were,  did 
Thomas  J.  Riddle  know  it?  I  was  aware 
that  this  was  turning  the  drift  of  the 
conversation  very  decidedly. 

Amabel  laughed.  She  asked  if  it 
wouldn't  be  funny  if  Miss  Lang- 
thorne's  spine  should  require  the  air  of 
Provincetown. 

Then  the  last  bell  for  breakfast  rang, 
and  the  subject  was  dropped.  After  a 
short  time  Amabel  hurriedly  made  an 
entry  in  her  day  book.  Overcome  by 
curiosity,  I  allowed  myself  an  inquiry. 

"Have  you  mentioned  the  recurrence 
of  Mr.  Riddle?"  She  paused  and 
looked  up  at  me,  the  top  of  her  pencil 
at  her  lips. 

"I  was  just  putting  down  that  you 
seemed  peculiarly  interested  in  a 
230 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

young  man  by  the  name  of  Riddle  who 
was  apparently  indigenous  along 
through  the  Cape  region. ' ' 

"I?"  was  all  I  could  gasp  in  response 
—"Interested?" 

Just  then  a  hurry  of  feet  sounded  in 
the  hall,  and  a  rattling  knock  came  on 
our  door. 

"I  say,  Am,  your  breakfast  won't  be 
worth  a  cent — fish  cold — Johnny  cakes 
ditto.  Do  come  down.  Never  mind 
crimping!" 

This  last  advice  Albert  shouted. 

Amabel,  who  was  dressed,  stepped 
quickly  outside.  I  don't  know  what 
she  said,  but  when  she  returned  she 
remarked  that  if  there  was  any  age  in 
which  a  boy  was  particularly  attractive, 
it  was  from  fourteen  to  sixteen;  still 
she  did  not  think  that  Albert  ought  to 
have  left  his  studies  at  this  time. 

When  we  descended  the  stairs  we 
found  that  Mr.  Riddle  had  not  break 
fasted,  and  by  a  coincidence — that's 
what  he  called  it — he  was  just  ready 
231 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

for  his  morning  meal.  So  we  all  par 
took  of  this  meal  together.  I  was  so 
hungry  that  at  first  I  did  not  attempt 
to  keep  run  of  the  talk,  but  when  I  did 
come  to  a  realizing  sense  of  it,  I  heard 
Mr.  Riddle  saying  that  he  knew  the 
roads  were  not  good,  but  he  had  de 
cided  not  to  go  on  by  rail,  for  Albert 
had  thought  they  two  could  manage 
somehow  to  pedal  down  to  Province- 
town;  and  if  they  couldn't,  why,  they 
could  always  walk.  There  was 
Thoreau  now,  he  must  have  had  no  end 
of  a  good  time  tramping  down  this 
peninsula.  Didn't  Miss  Waldo  think 
so? 

I  turned  my  head  and  glanced  so 
emphatically  at  Amabel  that  she 
floundered  in  her  reply,  and  must  have 
given  the  impression  that  she  had 
never  heard  of  Thoreau;  and  isn't  his 
Cape  Cod  the  one  book  that  is  for  sale 
alongside  the  clam-shells  with  sea 
scenes  painted  on  them,  and  the 
photographs  of  this  or  that  curve  of 
232 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

shore  with  a  wreck  half -hidden  by  the 
sand?  For,  alas,  there  will  always  be 
plenty  of  wrecks  on  this  coast. 

Before  noon  we  were  plodding  along 
the  main  road  in  Truro  township,  the 
one  main  road  that  runs  like  an  artery 
through  this  narrow  strip  of  land,  but 
it  is  so  lonely  that  one  fails  to  feel  any 
leaping  of  blood. 

Why  does  one  so  love  this  sandy 
desert  of  a  place?  What  is  that  undy 
ing  charm  that  draws  and  holds  one? 

This  is  the  town  that  was  settled  in 
1700,  and  they  called  it  Dangerfield, 
"as  it  has  perhaps  the  most  fatal  coast 
in  New  England." 

We  went  out  of  our  way,  through  the 
heavy  sand,  that  we  might  see  that 
beach  where  the  British  frigate 
Somerset  was  thrown  in  1778.  The 
people  hereabouts  were  alive  to  the 
advantage  of  having  an  enemy's  ship 
wrecked  under  their  very  noses  in  time 
of  war.  And  it  was  not  so  long  since 
the  Declaration  of  Independence  when 
233 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

these  red  coats  were  washed  ashore. 
The  people  turned  out  and  rescued  480 
of  these  soldiers,  and  at  the  same  time 
that  they  rescued  them  they  made  them 
prisoners. 

"It  must  have  been  a  thundering 
jolly  good  time,"  cried  Albert,  leaning 
on  his  wheel.  "There  ain't  any  such 
times  now.  What's  the  use  of  wearing 
a  dirk  if  you  can't  ever  'use  it?  And 
your  bowie-knife,  Am" — he  looked  at 
his  sister  with  a  grin. 

"I  don't  suppose,"  said  Amabel, 
"that  if  you  saved  a  man  from  drown 
ing  you'd  use  your  dirk  on  him." 

"If  he  were  a  pirate,"  responded 
the  boy,  meditatively. 

But  no  one  made  any  response.  We 
were  all  gazing  off  seaward,  and  I,  for 
one,  could  see  dimly  the  coast  of  Spain 
rising  up  in  the  blue  distance.  I 
could  even  make  out  some  of  the 
turrets  of  my  castle  there,  faintly  pur 
ple,  but  sun-tipped  on  the  battlements 
— always  sun-tipped  on  the  battlements. 
234 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

The  wind  had  come  out  east  again ; 
but  there  was  no  cloud ;  everything  was 
boldly  and  clearly  projected.  The 
waves  raced  in,  then  sucked  back 
slowly,  every  arm  of  spray  they  flung 
up  as  they  came  and  went  seeming  to 
fling  at  us  a  stronger  whiff  of  salt. 

Our  horses  stood  up  very  straight, 
taking  in  the  air  hoarsely.  The  Thane 
pawed  an  impatient  foot  in  the  sand. 
Just  now  he  had  the  appearance  of  a 
horse  that  could  go  very  fast  indeed,  if 
his  rider  would  only  allow  him  to  do  so. 

It  took  us  a  long  time  to  get  to 
Provincetowh ;  not  only  was  the  sand 
deep,  but  we  stopped  often  to  gaze  at 
the  ocean ;  one  cannot  very  well  cease 
from  gazing  at  the  ocean.  I  had  a 
feeling  that  I  had  never  been  so  near 
the  sea  before;  we  were  encompassed 
by  it,  we  had  gone  to  sea  without  hav 
ing  embarked  in  any  ship.  We  would 
not  have  been  surprised  if  this  bit  of 
land  had  detached  itself  and  floated  off, 
perhaps  to  that  vague  Atlantic  which 
235 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

would  be  a  fit  landing-place  for  a  craft 
such  as  this  would  be. 

I  must  say  for  Mr.  Riddle  that  he 
behaved  himself  very  well  at  this  time. 
He  did  not  talk  much,  and  he  did  not 
instruct  us  at  all.  I  am  always  so 
grateful  to  those  who  don't  try  to 
instruct.  I  can  sit  down  in  my  own 
room  with  a  book  of  facts  at  any  time. 
Albert  gathers  a  large  number  of 
items  concerning  the  towns  we  pass 
through,  and  he  is  likely  to  fire  off  one 
— an  item — at  any  moment ;  sometimes 
he  hits  us,  and  sometimes  he  does  not; 
in  either  case,  his  satisfaction  is  much 
the  same. 

At  last  we  entered  Provincetown,  on 
the  one  road  by  which  it  is  possible  to 
enter,  the  highway  that  shares  the 
neck  of  land  with  the  railroad.  People 
say  they  smell  fish  all  the  time  in 
Provincetown,  but  we  didn't — there 
was  nothing  but  the  one  grand  odor  of 
the  ocean,  and  it  was  enough. 

Off  the  street  that  runs  along  by  the 
236 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

wharves,  in  a  sort  of  alley,  there  is  an 
inn  kept  by  a  Portuguese,  who  has 
chosen  to  take  the  name  of  Jones — per 
haps  in  his  ignorance  when  he  first 
came  here,  he  thought  that  Jones  was 
an  unusual  and  high-sounding  name; 
it  may  have  appealed  to  his  sense  of 
the  romantic,  as  some  names  will — at 
any  rate,  he  is  Jones  now,  but  he  looks 
foreign  and  handsome,  even  though  he 
has  grown  stout  and  gray  and  well-to- 
do.  Have  I  not  said  that  we  have  been 
advised  to  go  to  the  Pacific  House? 

Our  cavalcade  of  two  horses  and  two 
bicycles  drew  up  in  rather  good  form 
in  front  of  the  house.  There  were  the 
usual  smokers  on  the  piazza ;  the  usual 
slim  young  man,  with  a  novel  and  a 
cigarette,  sprawling  in  a  hammock ;  one 
elderly  lady  and  one  girl,  each  in  a 
rocker,  also  with  novels. 

Everybody    sat    up    straight.      The 

young  man  in  the  hammock  struggled 

and  succeeded  in  flinging  his  feet  on 

to  the  floor.     And  all  stared  at  us,  at 

237 


SAND     'N'    BUSHES 

Amabel,  I  ought  to  say  It  was  a  try 
ing  moment.  I  cast  a  furtive  glance 
at  my  friend,  and  was  relieved  to  find 
that  her  face  was  impassive. 

Mr.  Riddle  flashed  a  look  at  me ;  this 
look  was  so  brief  that  I  was  not  quite 
sure  about  it,  when  I  came  to  think  it 
over  later.  Then  he  sprang  forward 
with  a  great  air  of  deference  to  assist 
Amabel  to  alight.  There  was  a  per 
fect  hush  on  the  piazza.  In  the  midst 
of  it  a  rotund  man  with  a  grizzled  mus 
tache  and  very  bright  black  eyes 
came  forward.  He  had  on  a  white 
linen  coat  and  apron;  he  was  the 
landlord. 

We  were  grouped  together  at  the 
entrance  now. 

"You  all  vish  rooms,  or  just  one 
suppaire?"  he  asked. 

"We  are  going  to  stay  a  while  at 
Provincetown  —  look  about  us,  you 
know,"  responded  Mr.  Riddle, 
promptly,  and  as  if  he  were  a  drummer 
who  had  a  box  of  samples  in  the  back- 
238 


SAND     'N'    BUSHES 

ground.  "I  hope  you  can  give  these 
ladies  a  good  room.  As  for  myself 
and  the  young  man  here,"  indicating 
Albert  with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  "we 
can  put  up  with  what  you  have;  but 
do  the  best  you  can  by  us.  And  what 
time  is  supper?" 

Meantime,  Amabel  and  I  had 
stepped  within,  to  a  room  which  had  a 
piano  in  it,  and  a  banjo  and  guitar,  and 
a  general  air  of  sitting-room,  rather 
than  public  parlor,  which  it  really 
was. 

The  landlord,  now  he  was  nearer  to 
us,  had  an  odor  of  frying  and  broiling 
fish  about  him.  He  gazed  at  us  with 
shrewd  eyes,  for  his  eyes,  though 
black  and  foreign,  were  as  shrewd  as  a 
Yankee's. 

"Um — m — m,"  he  said,  "jest  lemme 
think." 

He  was  apparently  running  over  the 
rooms  in  his  mind.  We  let  him  think, 
and  presently  he  stepped  into  the  little 
hall  and  shouted: 

239 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Delcina!  'Cina!  Coom  here  dis 
minute ! ' ' 

Wouldn't  you  have  expected  cham 
bermaid  or  something  of  that  sort  to 
appear  in  obedience  to  this  summons? 

A  girl  came  into  sight  at  the  end  of 
the  hall;  she  evidently  had  just  left  the 
dining-room.  She  was  dressed  just  as 
any  well-bred  girl  in  a  New  England 
town  is  dressed  of  an  afternoon  in 
summer — in  some  kind  of  light  stuff, 
fitting  exquisitely.  But  she  had  on  a 
long  white  apron,  and  a  snowy  towel 
was  flung  over  her  shoulder.  She  was 
slender  and  graceful,  and  she  was 
remarkably  pretty,  with  a  delicate, 
refined  comeliness. 

She  did  not  seem  to  see  us;  she  stood 
and  waited,  looking  at  Mr.  Jones.  I 
was  conscious  that  Mr.  Riddle  was  gaz 
ing  at  her,  though  he  seemed  not  to  be 
aware  of  any  object  but  the  young  man 
sitting  in  the  hammock. 

'  'Cina,"  said  Mr.  Jones,  "you  give 
dese  ladies  de  room  over  here,"  with 
240 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

a  movement  of  the  hand.  "I'll  take 
de  gentlemen  up  myself  to  Nos.  6 
and  7." 

Delcina  now  turned  toward  us. 

"I'll  show  you,"  she  said,  and  began 
to  go  up  the  stairs.  We  followed  her. 
The  stairs  and  the  hall  were  blue  with 
tobacco  smoke,  which  proceeded  from  a 
room  opposite  the  parlor,  where  some 
dimly-seen  men  sat  and  played  cards 
and  smoked.  It  was  like  looking  into 
the  mouth  of  a  crater  to  look  in  there, 
only  in  craters  one  does  not  usually  see 
vague,  manly  forms  holding  playing 
cards;  these  forms  may  be  there,  but 
they  are  not  visible. 

Delcina  opened  a  door,  and  we 
passed  on  into  a  room  with  two  beds 
in  it,  an  odor  of  tobacco  smoke  and  a 
still  stronger  odor  of  the  ocean. 

"You  can  see  the  harbor  from  this 
window,"  said  Delcina,  drawing  up  a 
curtain. 

She  smiled  in  an  entirely  impersonal 
but  very  friendly  way.  She  said  she 
241 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

would  send  up  water  and  towels ;  then 
she  left  us. 

"Oh,"  cried  Amabel,  fervently,  "I 
just  love  that  girl!" 

"She  is  rather  charming,"  I  re 
sponded. 

"Charming?"  repeated  Amabel, 
"she's  an  angel — she  never  showed 
that  she  saw  I  was  in  divided  skirts  and 
trouserettes.  That's  what  I  call  being 
an  angel — and  a  lady.  If  some  one 
doesn't  horsewhip  that  creature  in  the 
hammock  I — I " 

Amabel  paused,  owing  to  the  weak 
ness  of  words. 

"Why,"  I  said,  "what  did  he  do?" 

"Do?  Do?" — my  friend  was  pulling 
off  her  gloves  and  rolling  them  up  in  a 
ball;  she  flung  the  ball  on  the  bed 
furthest  from  her;  she  hurriedly  put 
her  hands  up  to  her  head,  smoothing 
her  hair,  but  giving  a  quick,  effective 
ruffle  to  the  fluffy  locks  about  her  fore 
head. 

"What  'did  he  do?  He  glared.  And 
242 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

he  openly  suppressed  a  snicker. 
Openly  suppressed  it.  Now  I  ask  you 
to  look  at  me, ' '  she  walked  across  the 
room.  "Consider  me.  In  these  days 
of  bicycles  am  I  not  perfectly  respect 
able — eminently  respectable?  Don't 
prevaricate." 

"Eminently,"  I  answered,  firmly. 

"Then  what  did  that— that  gorilla 
mean  by  suppressing  that  snicker?" 

"But,  Amabel,  pray  give  him  credit 
for  the  effort." 

"What  effort?"  fiercely. 

"Why,  at  suppression." 

"You  needn't  uphold  him.  I'm  sur 
prised  that  you  should  uphold  a  thing 
with  an  upper  lip  like  that,  and  no  chin 
to  speak  of.  Yes,  I  am  surprised. ' ' 

Amabel  was  still  walking  about  the 
room. 

"But  I'm  not  upholding  him.  I  wish 
you'd  be  reasonable,  even  if  you  are  a 
reformer.  I  say  give  him  credit  for 
wishing  not  to  snicker." 

"I  shan't.  He  wished  to  snicker." 
243 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

I  sat  down  by  the  window  and  looked 
at  the  harbor,  which  was  very  blue 
and  calm  and  bright.  At  this  moment 
I  was  not  calm  and  bright,  but  I  was 
blue. 

"I  wanted  to  cut  him  with  my  bowie- 
knife.  ' ' 

Having  spoken  thus,  Amabel  was 
silent.  In  about  a  quarter  of  a  minute 
an  arm  was  placed  across  my  shoulders 
and  a  cheek  pressed  against  mine. 

"I  know  I'm  a  regular  little  cat," 
whispered  AmabeJ,  in  the  most  gentle 
way,  quite  as  if  she  were  about  to  purr. 

"Speaking  of  cats,"  I  responded, 
"reminds  me  of  Sister  Sarah  Ramsey, 
that  married  a  Portuguese.  You  have 
promised  to  visit  her.  Perhaps  they  all 
marry  Portuguese  down  here." 

"I  had  forgotten  Sarah  Ramsey. 
We  will  go  to-morrow.  I  should  have 
remembered  her  by  to-morrow.  I 
shall  have  time  to  put  down  a  few 
words  in  my  day  book  before  supper. ' ' 

And  Amabel  drew  her  book  from  the 
244 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

satchel  and  sat  down  with  her  pencil 
in  her  hand.  But  she  did  not  write. 
She  glanced  from  the  window,  then 
leaned  her  arms  upon  the  ledge.  The 
bit  of  harbor  visible,  and  the  narrow 
curve  of  land  opposite  that  helped  to 
protect  this  haven,  were  framed  in  by 
the  old  warehouses  at  the  head  of  the 
wharves.  The  water  was  very  near, 
but  we  could  only  see  that  bit ;  as  if  a 
marine  picture  by  some  superhuman 
artist  were  hung  in  front  of  this  win 
dow — and  the  air — the  permeating  salt- 
ness  and  vigor  of  the  air — I  am  in 
danger  of  saying  too  much  of  the  air. 
It  would  seem  as  if  this  must  be  a 
healthier  place  even  than  Wellfleet. 
How  could  people  die  here?  The 
very  secret  of  eternal  youth  and 
strength  must  be  somewhere  in  this  bit 
of  a  sandy  desert  which  Massachusetts 
has  thrust  out  like  a  doubled  fist  into 
the  Atlantic  Ocean.  Is  that  extended 
fist  a  challenge  to  all  the  coast  to  pro 
duce  a  spot  that  shall  so  appeal  to 
245 


SAND    'N'-  BUSHES 

one's  fancy,  so  linger  in  one's  memory? 
And  yet  the  whole  place  is  only  sand, 
level  or  in  little  hills,  and  water. 
Where,  then,  lies  its  fascination?  Why 
can't  you  forget  it? 

But  these  reflections  came  later, 
when  the  power  of  this  spot,  which  is 
island  and  yet  not  island,  had  become 
still  greater. 

Now  I  looked  over  Amabel's  head 
through  the  window,  and  was  conscious 
of  the  vivid  brightness  of  everything. 
All  at  once  a  few  yards  of  the  sails  of  a 
big  ship  entering  the  harbor  became 
visible — like  the  tip  of  the  white  wing 
of  a  seabird.  The  sail  grew  larger, 
then  was  hidden  by  the  warehouses. 
A  hoarse  tooting  from  some  little 
steamer  sounded  as  near  as  if  the 
steamer  were  just  gliding  onto  the 
piazza. 

"It  isn't  of    any  use  trying  to  put 

anything    down    in    my    book,"    said 

Amabel,  at  last.     "Isn't  it  too  lovely? 

I  will  just  write  that  we  arrived  safely 

246 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

at  Provincetown  late  in  the  afternoon, 
that  riding  a  cross-tree  is  the  only 
reasonable  way  for  man  or  woman  to 
ride,  and  that  there  were  a  few  people, 
and  one  gorilla,  on  the  piazza,  when  we 
rode  up — that  the  chambermaid,  no, 
the  waiter  girl,  is  a  little  love.  I  won't 
say  a  word  about  the  scenery. ' ' 

The  next  day  we  spent  in  the  strict 
est  seclusion  among  the  bayberry  and 
goldenrod  shrubs  of  the  wastes  at  the 
back  of  the  town.  We  did  not 
definitely  intend  to  do  this,  but  we 
went  out  immediately  after  breakfast 
and  rambled  desultorily,  finding  our 
selves  on  Town  Hill,  where  the  signal 
for  a  storm  was  flying  from  the  flagstaff 
there. 

Amabel  said  that  she  would  not 
explore  the  streets  until  our  trunk  had 
arrived.  We  were  going  to  indulge  in 
one  trunk,  which  Amabel's  father  was 
to  send  on  such  a  date.  It  ought  to 
be  at  the  steamer  wharf  now,  but 
Albert  averred  that  it  was  not  there. 

247 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

It  was  coming  from  Boston  by  water. 
Mr.  Riddle  suggested  that  it  might 
have  been  shipped  in  a  sloop,  in  which 
case  even  a  spiritual  medium  could  not 
predict  when  it  would  arrive.  Mean 
time,  we  were  living  in  our  riding 
habits;  Amabel  had  relinquished  her 
new  raiment  and  was  extremely  "lady 
like"  in  her  old  riding  skirt.  We  still 
had  the  shorts  bag.  In  time  my  friend 
thought  we  might  turn  the  bag  into 
a  hop-sacking  suit.  Not  that  there  are 
no  drygoods  on  the  peninsula,  but  that 
main  street,  where  the  water  is  on  one 
side  and  the  dry  land  on  the  other,  was 
as  yet  unexplored  by  us.  We  hurried 
out  of  the  hotel,  went  along  the  lane 
and  up  a  few  steps  at  the  end  into  a 
sandy  place,  which  was  a  road ;  a  few 
rods  along  this  road  and  we  could 
climb  Town  Hill  or  escape  to  the 
desert.  The  fresh-water  standpipe  is 
off  in  this  direction,  rising  from  bil 
lows  of  sand,  and  in  the  great  stretch 
about  it  there  is  one  small  house. 
248 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

This  house  is  in  the  midst  of  shrubs, 
mostly  beach  plum ;  and  a  great  many 
hens  are  clucking  and  scratching  in  the 
sand,  some  of  them  leading  forth  little 
yellow  fluff  balls  that  go  through  the 
operation  of  scratching  with  bits  of  feet 
that  twinkle  as  they  scratch.  There 
isn't  a  tree  in  this  great  surface,  and 
the  sun  shines  down  and  the  sand  by 
the  standpipe  glares,  and  the  air  above 
it  wavers  with  heat. 

We  wear  colored  glasses  and  we 
carry  umbrellas.  We  sit  down  in  the 
sand  and  hold  up  our  umbrellas ;  finally 
we  loll  back,  and,  hearing  the  beat  of 
the  breakers  on  the  coast  that  from 
here  we  cannot  see,  we  almost  go  to 
sleep;  almost,  not  quite,  for  I  vaguely 
saw  a  figure  coming  among  the  plum 
bushes  toward  where  we  lay.  The 
figure  tottered  about,  but  that  was  my 
vision.  I  roused  myself  and  blinked 
my  eyes  to  make  sure  that  I  was  not 
asleep. 

Yes,  it  was  a  figure  coming,  stopping 
249 


SAND    'N*    BUSHES 

sometimes  to  pick  something,  and 
finally  revealing  that  it  was  a  child,  a 
girl  of  about  seven.  She  was  bare 
footed,  she  had  on  a  man's  broad- 
brimmed  straw  hat,  which  came  down 
"to  her  eyebrows  and  was  continually 
pushed  back  that  it  might  not  fall  over 
her  eyes  also.  Her  calico  frock  was  rent 
by  the  bushes  and  hung  in  long  slits. 

She  was  right  upon  us  before  she 
saw  us.  She  jumped  back  and  cried  out : 

"Oh,  my  timbers!"  then  stood  still 
and  gazed. 

This  exclamation  was  delightful  to 
me.  It  seemed  exquisitely  appro 
priate  ;  I  could  only  wish  that  she  had 
said  "Shiver  my  timbers,"  but  perhaps 
that  was  too  much  to  expect. 

Amabel  sat  upright.  Then  she  held 
out  her  hand. 

The  child  advanced,  not  shyly,  but 
guardedly.  She  had  clasped  her  hands 
behind  her,  and  her  slim  bit  of  a  figure, 
in  its  waving  rags,  was  in  the  full 
sunlight.  She  was  not  pretty,  but  she 
250 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

had  very  beautiful  dark  eyes.  We 
were  yet  to  learn  how  many  foreign, 
olive-tinted  faces  and  "midnight  eyes" 
we  were  to  see  on  Provincetown  streets 
— faces  as  strange  beneath  a  New 
England  sky  as  can  be  imagined. 

"Do  come  a  little  nearer,"  pleaded 
Amabel. 

The  child  moved  her  feet  for  about 
the  space  of  a  quarter  of  a  yard,  and 
then  stood  again. 

"What's  your  name?" 

"Sarah  Ramsey  Gonzaga. " 

This  appearance  seemed  almost  like 
a  visible  reproach  to  us. 

"You  don't  like  cats,  do  you?" 
inquired  Amabel,  making  a  statement 
and  then  asking  a  question,  after  the 
/manner  of  Yankees. 

"Huh?"  said  the  child. 

"Do  you  like  cats?" 

"They  scratch,"  was  the  reply. 

"So  they  do,  terribly,"  with 
emphasis.  "Where  do  you  live?" 

Sarah  turned  and  pointed  one  small, 
251 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

grimy  finger  at  the  one  house ;  but  she 
did  not  speak. 

"Is  your  mother  lame?" 

"Huh?" 

"Is  your  mother  lame?" 

"Naw." 

Amabel  turned  to  me  and  remarked, 
"It  can't  be  the  one." 

"She  ain't  lame,"  continued  the 
child — "she  can't  walk  a  single  inch — 
not  a  single  inch. ' ' 

This  statement  was  made  with  an 
unmistakable  air  of  pride.  It  was 
plain  that  Sarah  Ramsey  Gonzaga  felt 
the  distinction  of  having  a  mother  who 
couldn't  walk  a  single  inch. 

"It  is  the  same,  then,"  said  Amabel, 
aside.  "Can  your  father  walk?" 

Sarah  smiled,  and  revealed  two  gaps 
in  the  teeth  of  the  upper  jaw.  She 
nodded. 

"Pa  c'n  walk  like  a  good  one — so 
c'n  I." 

She  looked  down  reflectively  at  her 
bare  legs  and  feet.  Then  she  repeated, 
252 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"but  ma  can't.  Doctors  say  she  can't 
never.  Doctors  say  she's  officying. " 

Still  more  triumph  in  voice  and 
manner. 

"She's  what?"- 

"Officying.  But  it  don't  hurt— it's 
real  easy. ' ' 

"Easy  to  officy?" 

"Yeh." 

"Then  tell  us  how  to  do  it." 

Sarah  looked  puzzled  a  moment,  but 
she  said: 

"You  jes'  set,  'n'  set,  in  a  big  chair, 
'n'  have  your  victuals  brought  to  ye; 
'n'  your  legs  all  wropped  up;  'n'  drink 
tea  'thout  no  sugar  in  it;  'n'  tell  folks 
they  oughter  be  thankful  they  c'n 
walk." 

"Oh,  that's  the  way  to  officy,  is  it?" 

"Yeh." 

Sarah  now  looked  exhaustively  at 
our  feet.  It  was  as  if  she  were  count 
ing  the  buttons  on  our  shoes. 

Then,  without  the  least  warning,  she 
sprung  this  remark  upon  us : 

253 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"I'm  goin'  to  have  a  kitten." 

"Are  you?" 

"Yeh.  Some  women's  comin'  down 
from  Aunt  Ma'ly's;  they're  comin'  to 
bring  it.  All  yeller  'n'  white  'n'  gray, 
with  double  claws  on  her  front  feet. ' ' 

We  shuddered.     The  child  continued : 

"I  ain't  never  had  no  kitten.  I've 
had  chickens,  but  they  grow  to  be 
hens  'n'  pick  at  you.  I  killed  one 
chicken  'cause  I  didn't  want  it  to  git 
grown  up.  I  arst  ma  if  'twould  be 
sure  to  grow  up  if  't  lived,  'n'  she  said 
'twould;  'n'  so  I  killed  it.  I  shan't  kill 
no  more.  I  don't  like  to.  I  felt 
horrid.  D'you  ever  feel  horrid?" 

"Yes." 

"  'Cause  you'd  killed  a  chicken?" 

"No.  I'm  feeling  horrid  now;  but 
it's  about  a  kitten. " 

It  was  Amabel  who  conversed  with 
Sarah,  who  in  her  interest  had  come 
still  nearer  to  us.  Amabel  extended 
her  hand  and  Sarah  put  her  own  hand 
within  the  open  palm. 
254 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"How  d'you  kill  it?"  inquired  Sarah. 
"D'you  chop  its  head  off?"  Her  eyes 
were  distended. 

"Oh,  no — no.  I  lost  it.  It  was  in  a 
bag.  We  were  bringing  it  to  Province- 
town,  to  Aunt  Ma'ly's  sister,  Sarah 
Ramsey,  that  married  a  Portuguese." 

The  child  stared  still  harder.  She 
drew  in  a  long  breath. 

"My  pa's  a  Portugee,"  she  said  at 
last.  After  a  moment  her  lips  began 
to  quiver.  She  put  up  her  disengaged 
hand  to  her  eye. 

"Was  it  my  kitten?"  she  asked, 
indistinctly. 

"It  was,"  solemnly.  "Oh,  I  do  feel 
horrid ! ' ' 

Amabel  drew  the  child  down  upon 
her  lap.  Sarah  was  sobbing  undis- 
guisedly  now. 

"  'Twas  all  yeller,  'n'  white,  'n' 
gray,"  she  said,  indistinctly.  "Aunt 
Ma'ly  wrote  to  ma  'bout  it." 

She  sobbed  still  harder. 


255 


X 

RATHER     EXCITING 

Presently  we  all  rose  and  walked 
toward  the  little  house  in  the  desert. 
There  was  a  winding  path  that  led  to 
it,  a  path  of  sand  that  curved  about  the 
bushes  and  that  gave  beneath  your 
feet.  Off  at  our  right  was  the  ocean, 
unseen,  but  heard ;  at  our  left  also  the 
ocean,  behind  us  the  ocean  and  a  tiny 
neck  of  land ;  in  front  of  us  the  ocean 
in  the  form  of  Provincetown  Harbor ; 
and  Town  Hill  lay  between  us  and  the 
town.  The  storm  signal  was  no  longer 
flying.  The  sky  did  not  look  as  if  it 
could  ever  storm. 

As  we  walked,  little  Sarah  Ramsey 

leading  the  way,  we  heard  a  loud  voice 

somewhere  in  space.      There  was   no 

wind,  and  the  tide  was  out;   a  human 

257 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

voice  might  carry  a  great  distance  just 
now. 

We  involuntarily  paused.  Sarah 
stopped  her  sobbing. 

' '  I  heard  that  noise  before, ' '  she  said. 

Yes,  it  was  a  man's  voice,  and  it  was 
so  near  that  we  could  even  hear  the 
words : 

"I  would  not  take  your  hand — no, 
not  for  ten  thousand  wor-r-rlds!  I 
scor-r-n  you  and  yours!  The  world  is 
wide,  and  God  is  good.  I  go  hence. 
I  will  never  set  eyes  on  you  again — 
never!  never!" 

We  stood  quite  spellbound.  Sarah's 
under  jaw  dropped  in  the  intensity  of 
her  attention.  She  pushed  back  a  little 
nearer  to  Amabel. 

There  were  bushes  enough  to  con 
ceal  a  great  many  men.  Further 
away  the  sand  dunes  rose  higher — 
but  this  speaker  was  nearer  than  the 
dunes. 

It  was  a  moment  before  we  moved 
on.  Amabel  and  I  scrupulously  re- 
258 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

frained  from  glancing  at  each  other. 
Could  that  be  Thomas  J.  Riddle  recit 
ing  "his  part"?  Hadn't  his  Aunt 
Eunice  mentioned  that  the  remote 
wilds  of  Cape  Cod  would  be  a  good 
place  in  which  to  recite  his  part?  And 
was  that  the  way  he  said  "scorn  you 
and  yours"?  I  had  an  indefinite  feel 
ing  of  disappointment  which  was  per 
haps  the  reason  why  I  refrained  from 
looking  at  Amabel. 

"I  heard  that  noise  last  night,"  said 
the  child,  as  we  went  on.  "Do  you 
s'pose  'tis  a  man?" 

But  no  one  replied  to  her.  She  led 
us  to  the  door,  which  stood  open.  She 
went  in  and  hurried  across  the  floor  to 
a  large  wheeled  chair  which  stood  at  a 
window.  She  flung  herself  forward, 
crying  out: 

"Oh,  ma,  they've  lost  it!" 

Then  she  began  to  sob  again. 

We  followed.  The  woman  in  the 
chair  turned  to  look  at  us.  She  had 
some  knitting  in  her  lap,  a  man's 
259 


SAND     'N'    BUSHES 

coarse  blue  sock.  She  dropped  it  as 
she  saw  us. 

"Good  mornin',"  she  said.  "Won't 
you  se'  down?  Sarah,  can't  you  pull 
some  chairs  for'ard?" 

But  Sarah  evidently  could  not.  We 
helped  ourselves. 

This  woman  was  one  of  those  you 
occasionally  meet  in  New  England,  so 
refined,  so  gentle,  that  they  even  make 
the  dialect  they  use  a  sort  of  winning 
power.  She  looked  like  her  sister 
Mahala,  with  that  curious  difference 
that  marks  a  fine-grained  texture. 
Her  voice  was  neither  high  nor  nasal, 
but  mellow,  as  if  the  dampness  of  the 
air  had  softened  it. 

Amabel  hastened  to  make  con 
fession.  When  she  had  made  an  end 
the  woman  smiled  and  said  she  guessed 
she  shouldn't  blame  us  none;  and 
long's  Sarah  hadn't  ever  seen  the  cat, 
she  wouldn't  mourn  much. 

She  had  taken  up  her  knitting,  and 
her  needles  flashed  as  she  worked.  In 
260 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

answer  to  our  questions  she  said  that 
of  course  she  got  kinder  tired  settin'  so 
much,  but  there  was  lots  to  see  from 
her  winder. 

In  response  to  our  looks  of  surprise, 
she  smiled  and  explained  that  there  was 
the  hens  pickin'  round;  'n'  she  didn't 
s'pose  folks  who  hadn't  watched  'em 
knew  how  interestin'  'twas  to  see  the 
bayb'ry  bushes  'n'  the  beach  plums, 
'n'  the  golden-rod  come  for'ards  in  the 
spring.  She  jest  about  counted  every 
leaf. 

"I  d'know  but  I  see  when  the  sap 
starts  to  runnin'  up  into  the  branches. 
I  tell  you  what  'tis,"  with  a  pleasant 
laugh,  "me  'n'  all  these  bushes  'n' 
things,  'n'  bits  of  beach  grass  are  jest 
as  intimate's  can  be.  I  can't  bear  to 
have  any  of  that  bayb'ry  broken  off. 
Sometimes  boys  come  down  here,  'n' 
they  go  hustling  through  the  bushes, 
and  then  I'll  miss  a  stalk  here  'n'  there ; 
'n'  it  seems's  if  it  hurt  'em  to  be  broke 
off.  I  d'.know  why  plants  shouldn't 
261 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

have  their  feelin's,  do  you?  I  always 
keep  a  few  bayb'ry  leaves  by  me — I 
don't  s'pose  it  hurts  to  take  off  a  few 
leaves — 'n'  the  smell  of  'em  is  jest 
delightful.  See  if  you  don't  like  it." 

She  gathered  up  some  leaves  from  a 
little  stand  that  stood  close  by  her,  and 
extended  them  in  the  palm  of  her  hand. 
They  gave  forth  a  fragrant,  whole 
some  odor. 

"I  always  did  love  bayb'ry  when  I 
was  to  home,  not  so  big  as  Sarah  here ; 
I  used  to  love  to  set  right  down  in  a 
bayb'ry  thicket  'n'  rub  the  leaves  up 
against  my  face.  'N'  every  fall  mother 
made  me  g ether  all  the  berries  I  could 
find,  'n'  we  made  them  into  tallow.  I 
remember  I  got  so  many  one  fall  that 
the  tallow  sold  for  s'  much  I  had  a  new 
pair  of  shoes — copper  toes." 

She  paused  in  her  wild  garrulity  and 
glanced  through  the  window. 

"I  never  could  feel  quite  so  near  to 
beach  plums  somehow,   nor  bayberries, 
either,  though  I  do  love  'em  both." 
262 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Then  she  looked  back  at  us.  "Be 
you  come  to  make  much  of  a  stop  down 
here?" 

Yes,  if  we  liked  it  we  might  stay  all 
summer. 

"Oh,  I  guess  you'll  like  it,  fast 
enough.  I  wouldn't  live  anywhere 
else  for  no  money.  If  I  couldn't  look 
out  'n'  see  this  great  stretch  of  sand  'n' 
bushes  I  d'know  what  I  should  do.  I 
ain't  be'n  no  ways  partial  to  that 
standpipe.  It  kind  of  hinders  my  view 
over  the  sand  in  that  d'rection.  But  I 
s'pose  I  sh'll  git  reconciled  to  it  some 
time.  We  do  git  reconciled  to  most 
things — thank  the  Lord  for  that!  I 
hope  you  appreciate  your  blessin'  in 
being  able  to  walk." 

As  she  glanced  at  us  inquiringly  we 
both  said  in  unison  that  we  hoped  we 
did. 

"I  s'pose  you  think  you  do,  but  you 
don't  know  nothin'  'bout  it  till  your 
legs  fail  you,  'n'  are  jest  as  likely  to 
break  as  not." 

263 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Amabel,  softly. 

"Sometimes  seems's  if  my  jest  settin' 
here  'd  break  'em.  Pedro  says  I  can 
break  a  bone  easier  'n  he  c'n  break  a 
pipe  stem.  But  land,  that  ain't  so  no 
more'n  nothin' !  That's  exaggeration, 
that  is.  You  know  some  people  can't 
help  exaggeratin'." 

She  spoke  this  last  word  with  a  hard 
g  each  time,  and  she  said  it  with  a 
touching  air  of  pride  in  her  ability  to 
use  a  long  word. 

"Pedro  likes  to  make  things  as  large 
as  they  be.  But  seein'  I've  broke  my 
hip  twice,  'n'  my  legs  once  apiece,  you 
can't  blame  him  much,  now,  can  you?" 

She  paused  and  seemed  to  expect  a 
reply,  so  Amabel  responded  that  she 
didn't  think  he  could  be  blamed,  and 
she  hoped  that  these  bones  were  not 
broken  all  at  once. 

"Oh,      no,"     laughing;      "even      I 

couldn't  make  out  to  do  so  much's  that, 

though   the    doctors  do    say  I've    got 

something     mighty     uncommon     the 

264 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

matter  of  my  bones.  Some  of  um 
said  I  was  officying,  but  the  rest  of  um 
said  'twan't  no  such  thing,  that  'twas 
entirely  different;  but  they  all  agreed 
that  'twas  most  uncommon — it  didn't 
occur  once  in  I  forgit  how  often." 

The  speaker's  pale  face  flushed  with 
the  interest  and  pride  with  which  she 
spoke. 

"Yes,  there's  be'n  doctors  down 
here  from  Boston  jest  to  see  the  case. 
I  tell  Pedro  that's  long's  I'd  got  to  be 
laid  up,  'twas  something  to  be  laid  up 
dif'runt  from  other  people.  I  tell 
him  'twas  like  havin'  the  right  kind  of 
spice  in  an  apple  pie  made  in  the 
spring  after  the  apples'd  got  as  flat  as 
dishwater." 

Here  she  laughed  again. 

Little  Sarah  Ramsey  was  sitting  on 
the  edge  of  a  chair,  gazing  at  us  with 
utter  absorption.  The  room  was  full 
of  sunlight;  outside  the  robins  and 
chips  were  flying  about;  sometimes  a 
hen  came  slowly  peeking  up  to  the 
265 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

open  door,  looked  in  with  that  imbecile 
air  which  belongs  to  a  hen,  then  flut 
tered  away  in  obedience  to  Sarah  Ram 
sey's  sudden  dart  forward  with  arms 
outspread.  It  was  very  pleasant.  I 
felt  an  agreeable  sense  of  drowsy 
peace. 

"Mebby,"  said  our  hostess,  looking 
hopefully  at  us,  "you'd  like  to  hear 
how  I  was  first  taken?" 

"Taken?"  repeated  Amabel,  vaguely. 

"Yes.  'Twas  my  left  hip  I  broke 
both  times,  you  know.  My  symptoms 
were  real  queer  while  I  was  lay  in'  here 
after  the  doctors  had  fixed  the  bones. 
Mebby  you'd  like  to  hear  'bout  them 
symptoms.  I  set  here  'n'  think  of 
them  symptoms  till  I  declare  I  don't 
know  but  I'm  feelin*  um  all  over  agin. 
But  they're  always  interestin'  to  me. 
Sometimes  I  think  that,  s'long's  I've 
got  to  set  here,  I  d'  know  what  I  should 
do  'thout  them  symptoms.  They're 
jest  as  good  as  a  novel  to  me — better, 
for  I  ain't  one  that  ever  cared  much 
266 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

for  novels.  Novels  ain't  true,  'n'  my 
symptoms  are;  that's  one  consolation, 
they're  true's  the  Book.  Folks  gener 
ally  like  to  hear  me  tell  the  par 
ticulars." 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  Amabel;  "please 
go  on." 

She  spoke  cheerfully,  but  there  was  an 
undertone  of  plaintiveness  in  her  voice. 

We  settled  ourselves  as  comfortably 
as  we  could  in  the  straight  wooden 
chairs.  We  took  off  our  hats.  I  re 
member  from  the  first  that  I  watched  a 
bee  that  came  buzzing  to  a  wild  rose 
bush  full  of  blossoms  that  grew  near 
the  door.  I  watched  him  make  unerr 
ing  dives,  and  I  heard  the  woman's 
voice.  Of  course,  I  couldn't  have  gone 
to  sleep  in  a  chair  like  that ;  but  Ama 
bel  always  asserts  that  I  snored,  and 
that  at  one  stage  of  my  slumber  I  had 
a  nightmare,  and  thought  I  had  broken 
my  hip.  But  I  do  not  in  the  least 
believe  this. 

It  is  true,  however,  that  when  I  was 
267 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

roused  by  my  friend's  rising  from  her 
chair,  the  town  clock  was  striking  a 
great  many  times,  and  it  was  high  noon. 

Our  hostess  looked  pleased  and 
refreshed;  Amabel  worn,  but  reso 
lutely  amiable. 

"I  do  hope  you'll  both  come  ag'in," 
said  Mrs.  Gonzaga.  "We've  had  a  nice 
talk,  ain't  we?  It's  done  me  a  lot  of 
good.  If  you'll  wait,  we'll  have  some 
broiled  fresh  cod;  Pedro'll  be  in  any 
minute.  He's  tiptop  cookin'  fish. 
He's " 

But  we  had  gone  outside  the  door. 
We  turned  back  to  say  goodby.  We 
promised  to  come  again.  We  hurried 
along  the  sandy  path,  slipping  and 
wallowing.  Town  Hill  kept  every 
breath  of  wind  from  us.  We  glanced 
up  at  that  hill.  On  the  verge  nearest 
us,  his  head  just  above  the  tallest 
beach  plums,  we  saw  Mr.  Riddle.  He 
snatched  off  his  hat  and  waved  it. 
Then  he  disappeared  and  immediately 
reappeared,  hurrying  along  toward  us. 
268 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Albert  has  been  anxious  about 
you,"  he  announced. 

"Has  he?"  indifferently. 

"Yes.  May  I  ask  if  you've  been 
out  here  in  this  waste  all  the  morn 
ing?" 

"Yes." 

Mr.  Riddle  passed  his  hand  over  his 
face. 

"It  is  I  who  feel  a  prey  to  anxiety 
now,"  he  said. 

He  glanced  at  Amabel  and  then  at 
me,  and  we  glanced  at  him. 

"May  I  ask  a  very  important  ques 
tion?" 

We  hesitated,  and  then  we  said, 
"Yes,"  and  waited. 

Amabel  and  I  were  going  single  file 
along  the  path,  Mr.  Riddle  was  strid 
ing  among  the  bushes  beside  us. 
There  was  certainly  an  unhappy 
expression  upon  his  countenance.  I 
am  almost  sure  that  I  felt  a  little  ten 
derly  toward  him  when  I  saw  how  dis 
tressed  his  face  was. 
269 


SAND    'N'     BUSHES 

"If  you've  been  here  all  the  time, 
then,"  he  began,  after  a  slight  pause, 
"you  must  have  heard  something. 
Ladies,  have  you  heard  anything?" 

"We  have  heard  hens,  and  robins, 
and " 

Amabel  stopped,  and  I  could  see  her 
face  enough  to  know  that  she  was 
blushing.  Unless  there  is  a  principle 
involved,  like  divided  skirts,  she  hates 
to  hurt  any  one's  feelings. 

"Miss  Waldo,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Riddle,  desperately,  "did  you  hear  me 
reciting  my  part?" 

"I — I  don't  know. " 

"Did  you?  I  want  to  know  whether 
to  go  and  hang  myself  or  not. " 

"Please  don't  hang  yourself,  Mr. 
Riddle,"  softly. 

"Why  not?"  fiercely. 

"Because  —  because,  down  here 
drowning  would  be  so  much  handier. ' ' 

"Miss  Waldo!     Let  it  be  drowning, 
then.      What  did    you    hear   me   say? 
Don't  prevaricate." 
270 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"I  never  prevaricate.  I  heard  you 
say  that  you — that  you  scorned  me  and 
mine." 

Here  Amabel  could  not  restrain  a 
laugh ;  Mr.  Riddle  joined,  but  his  face 
was  very  red. 

"I  suppose,"  he  said,  despairingly, 
"that  I  called  it  scor-r-ned?" 

"Yes,  you  did." 

"Do  believe  that  I  know  better,  Miss 
Waldo— do,"  hurriedly.  "But  the 
exigencies  of  my  audience — I  call  it 
the  exigencies — demand  that  kind  of  an 
R.  It  makes  me  sick,  though;  I  assure 
you,  it  makes  me  sick. ' ' 

He  looked  down  at  Amabel's  face. 
"You  see,"  in  a  lower  voice,  "I'm  try 
ing  to  climb  up  in  my  profession,  but  I 
have  to  consult  the  taste  of  others 
about  the  letter  R.  If  I  ever  get  to  be 
like  Irving  and  those  fellows,  I'll  cer 
tainly  drop  all  that  rot.  I  didn't  know 
it  made  me  so  sick  till  I  was  afraid  you 
overheard  me.  Somehow,  I  care 
awfully  that  you  shouldn't  think  me  a 
271 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

melodramatic  idiot."  Again  he  looked 
down  at  her.  "I  suppose  you  can't 
help  thinking  me  that,  though?" 

"Why  should  I?" 

But  Amabel  did  not  glance  at  him ; 
she  was  looking  everywhere  but  at  Mr. 
Riddle. 

4 '  I  shall  have  to  go  over  my  part, ' ' 
went  on  the  young  man,  "but  I  rather 
think  I  can  find  a  place  down  here 
where  nobody'll  hear  me.  They  tell 
me  there're  miles  of  sand  here  where 
there  isn't  a  person — confound  the 
whole  thing,  though,  I  say!  Miss 
Waldo,  I  do  wish  you'd  tell  me  you 
don't  think  any  the  less  of  me." 

This  was  rather  trying;  and  why 
didn't  he  ask  me  if  I  thought  any  the 
less  of  him? 

I  lingered,  but  Amabel  would  not 
allow  me  to  linger.  She  paused 
directly  and  turned  to  me ;  whereupon 
Mr.  Riddle  dropped  the  solicitude  from 
his  manner. 

After  dinner,  however,  when  I  was 
272 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

sitting  on  the  piazza  alone,  Mr.  Riddle 
came  from  the  hall,  saw  me,  and 
leaned  against  a  post,  looking  down  at 
me.  There  was  a  certain  wistfulness 
in  his  eyes — really,  he  had  fine  eyes — 
that  was  rather  touching. 

"I  suppose,"  he  began  abruptly,  in 
a  very  low  tone,  "that  I  ought  not  to 
feel  as  I  do.  I  mean  that  I  have  no 
right  to  feel  so;  but  somehow  I  value 
your  opinion  of  me — I  want  it  to  be  a 
good  opinion." 

When  I  had  seen  this  look  in  his 
face  directed  to  Amabel,  I  had  an 
inclination  to  scoff  at  it,  but  I  had  no 
such  inclination  now.  Mr.  Thomas  J. 
Riddle  seemed  to  me  a  young  man  of 
discrimination  and  good  sense;  and 
there  was  something  winning  about  him. 

"I  don't  know  why  I  should  want  to 
talk  about  myself  to  you,"  he  went  on, 
"and  of  course  I  shall  bore  you  no 
end." 

"I  don't  think  you'll  bore  me,"  I 
replied. 

273 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

He  pulled  out  his  watch. 

"Please  come  down  to  the  wharf  with 
me.  The  Boston  steamer  has  just 
come  round.  Let  us  see  her  make  her 
landing. ' ' 

I  knew  of  no  reason  why  I  shouldn't 
go  with  him.  Just  as  we  were  turning 
on  to  the  main  street  I  looked  back  at 
our  window,  and  Amabel  waved  her 
hand  to  me  from  it.  She  was  making 
entries  in  her  day  book. 

Puffs  of  wind  came  from  the  south, 
warm  salt  wind  that  one  snuffed  up 
eagerly. 

"We're  a  set  of  barnstormers,  you 
see,"  began  Mr.  Riddle,  bending  his 
head  down  to  me.  "I'm  half  ashamed 
of  the  whole  thing,  but  I'm  in  it,  and 
I'm  leading  man,  and  I'm  getting  toler 
able  pay.  I've  got  to  get  up  my  parts 
of  three  or  four  new  plays  this  summer. 
Of  course,  I'm  looking  forward  to 
better  things.  I  wish  you  could  advise 
me.  I  should  think  so  much  of  your 
advice. ' ' 

274 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

We  had  now  reached  the  top  of  the 
long  wharf.  People  were  sauntering 
down  to  see  the  boat  come  in.  Among 
these  people  was  Albert,  who  eyed  me 
over,  and  then  went  on  with  a 
whistle.  The  wind  blew  so  here  that 
I  was  obliged  to  hold  my  hat  on.  I 
managed  to  say  that  I  was  sure  I 
couldn't  give  any  advice. 

"Oh,  please,  don't  say  that!"  he 
responded.  "I  want  to  tell  you  all 
about  it.  You'll  let  me  tell  you,  won't 
you?" 

Why,  yes,  since  he  really  wished  it. 

"Indeed,  I  do.  Oh,  thank  you!  I 
knew  you  were  kind — and  I  want  you 
to  criticise — there's  the  boat — lots  of 
people  on  her,  aren't  there?" 

The  water,  driven  by  the  boat,  was 
swashing  up  against  the  planks,  and 
the  wharf  was  swaying.  The  wind 
rushed  over  us.  Several  people  came 
out  of  the  little  house  there  and 
crowded  nearer  the  edge.  The  pas 
sengers  on  the  boat  were  all  grouped 
275 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

close  to  where  the  gangway  plank  was 
to  be  thrown  out.  Men  and  women 
were  holding  on  to  their  hats  and 
laughing  and  talking  as  they  watched 
the  boat  slide  forward  toward  the 
wharf.  I  thought  there  was  something 
familiar  in  the  appearance  of  two  girls 
who  stood  the  very  foremost,  close  to 
the  rail,  and  within  a  foot  or  so  of 
where  the  gangway  was  to  be.  In  the 
next  moment  the  steamer  had  come  so 
near  that  I  knew  the  two  girls,  in  the 
next  it  was  so  near  that  I  heard  one  of 
them  say  shrilly  as  she  caught  sight 
of  my  tall  companion : 

"Oh,  Sue  Cummings,  ain't  it  funny? 
There's " 

Then  the  railing  was  thrown  up,  Lily 
Langthorne  pressed  forward,  and,  not 
noting  carefully  where  her  feet  went, 
promptly  fell  into  the  water. 

I  heard  one  of  the  hands  cry  out: 
"Oh,  the  devil!" 

Somebody  else  shouted:  "Woman 
overboard ! ' ' 

276 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

But  before  this  last  shout  Mr.  Riddle 
had  jumped  off  the  wharf  after  Miss 
Langthorne. 

My  first  sensation  was  one  of  anger 
at  the  girl's  inconceivable  carelessness. 
Then  I  was  afraid  she  would  hit  the 
steamer's  side  or  the  posts  of  the 
wharf.  But  she  would  be  picked  up; 
there  was  no  doubt  of  that ;  I  had  no 
doubt  either  but  that  she  could  swim. 
All  this  sounds  rather  cold-blooded,  but 
I  did  not  feel  cold-blooded. 

Everybody  rushed  to  look  over. 
Half  a  dozen  rowboats  hovered  as  near 
as  possible — and  there  was  Mr.  Riddle 
swimming  out  toward  one  of  the 
boats.  Miss  Langthorne  herself  was 
making  strokes  with  one  hand,  and 
altogether  behaving  herself  in  a  com 
mendable  way.  But  a  woman's  cloth 
ing  hampered  her. 

The  two  were  pulled  into  one  of  the 

boats.     Sue  Cummings  had  engaged  a 

carriage,   and  she  had  her  friend  put 

into  it.     Not  before  Miss  Langthorne 

277 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

had  seen  me,  and  had  said,  with  chat 
tering  teeth : 

"Oh,  I  thought  'twas  you — funniest 
thing  in  the  world,  ain't  it?  I  must 
look  a  perfect  fright. ' ' 

And  she  hurried  into  the  carriage, 
her  tailor-made  suit  dripping  streams 
of  water. 

As  for  Mr.  Riddle,  he  was  running 
up  the  wharf,  bareheaded,  his  close- 
cropped  hair  shining  in  the  sun. 

I  followed  at  my  leisure.  I  stopped 
to  sit  awhile  on  the  deck  of  a  fishing 
sloop  that  was  tied  up  to  another 
wharf.  I  watched  some  boys  wading 
after  something  they  had  tied  to  a  post 
sunk  in  the  sand,  and  when  I  found  it 
was  a  cat,  half-drowned,  and  thor 
oughly  soaked,  I  rose  up  in  my  wrath, 
and  my  wrath  was  so  great  that  it 
enabled  me  to  make  one  of  the  boys 
release  the  cat  and  carry  her  to  a  sunny 
spot  on  the  wharf.  I  watched  until 
the  animal  had  run  away.  Then  I  con 
tinued  my  walk,  and  when  I  arrived 
278 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

at  the  Pacific  House  Amabel  met  me 
on  the  piazza  with  the  exclamation : 

"You  can't  guess  who  has  come!" 
and  I  said,  "Ain't  it  funny?"  and  she 
said,  "How  did  you  know?" 

"So  we  have  come  down  here  to  the 
end  of  the  world  to  stay  in  the  same 
hotel  with  Lilian  Langthorne,"  I  re 
marked.  "It  does  seem  unnecessarily 
cruel  of  Providence. ' ' 

"And  she  fell  into  the  water,  and 
Mr.  Riddle  pulled  her  out,"  went  on 
my  friend,  hurriedly. 

"Yes,  I  was  there,"  I  responded, 
without  any  apparent  emotion. 

"Oh,  were  you?" 

"Yes;  it  was  not  becoming  to  Miss 
Langthorne  to  be  as  wet  as  that.  She 
looked  like  a  draggled  nursery  maid 
who  would  flirt  with  the  butcher's 
boy." 

"You're  a  cold-hearted  wretch,"  said 
my  friend. 

"No,  I'm  not.  And  now  I  suppose 
she  will  wriggle  up  to  everybody,  and 
279 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

make  them  smile  at  her,  and  even 
Delcina  will  not  be  as  kind  and  atten 
tive  to  us.  She  will  desert  and  go  over 
to  Lily  Langthorne.  I  like  Delcina;  I 
don't  want  her  imposed  upon.  I  was 
impressed  by  Delcina.  What  did  that 
girl  come  down  here  for — for  her 
spine?" 

"Oh,  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  help 
lessly.  "They've  got  the  best  room  in 
the  house,  and  Delcina  has  been  run 
ning  with  hot  blankets  and  hot 
whisky,  and — well — Mr.  T.  J.  Riddle 
is  the  hero  of  the  hour." 

"No  doubt.  But  he  didn't  run  any 
risk.  And  somebody  would  have  been 
sure  to  pick  up  Lily  Langthorne. 
Girls  like  Lily  Langthorne  never 
drown.  I  hope  Mr.  Riddle  got  his 
share  of  the  hot  whisky." 

"Yes,  I  think  he  did.  There  he  is 
now.  You  can  ask  him.  But  I'm 
sorry  to  see  you  exhibit  such  a  spirit." 

Mr.  Riddle  came  up  the  lane  in  a 
tweed  suit  which  made  him  look  quite 
280 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

fine  and  stylish.  Evidently  his  trunk 
had  come,  though  ours  had  not. 

Two  small  girls  in  the  yard  opposite 
audibly  conversed  in  the  following 
terms: 

"There  he  is — he's  the  feller  that 
jumped  off  the  wharf." 

"That  one?     What'd  he  jump  fur?" 

"What  fur?     Fur  a  gal." 

"Well,  'tain't  nothin'  to  jump  off  the 
wharf.  Pa's  done  it  lots  of  times. 
Was  it  his  gal?" 

"I  guess  so." 

Mr.  Riddle  was  quite  red  when  he 
reached  us.  He,  also,  had  overheard. 

"You  see  how  thickly  blush  the 
honors  on  your  brow,  Mr.  Riddle," 
said  Amabel. 

"Oh,  please  don't,  Miss  Waldo.  I  do 
hate  to  be  made  ridiculous.  It's 
ridiculous  to  speak  of  what  I  did.  I 
wish  you  two  ladies  would  come  with 
us  to  row  in  the  harbor.  Albert  and  I 
are  going." 

Just  then  Delcina  appeared  at  the 
281 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

open  door.  She  said  that  Miss  Lang- 
thorne  had  just  come  down  and  wished 
to  see  Mr.  Riddle. 

Mr.  Riddle  entered  the  little  parlor; 
Amabel  and  I  sat  on  the  bench  on  the 
piazza.  The  young  man  whom  my 
friend  persistently  called  the  gorilla 
came  and  sat  in  the  hammock  in  front 
of  us.  He  had  on  a  white  suit,  with  a 
white  cap  on  the  back  of  his  head.  I 
had  seen  him  carefully  arrange  that  cap 
before  the  glass  in  the  hall,  so  that  his 
hair,  cut  with  an  eye  to  bangs,  might 
fully  reveal  that  it  was  so  cut.  He 
lighted  a  cigarette.  He  lolled  in  a  way 
that  gave  him  a  view  through  the  open 
window  into  the  parlor.  His  little 
eyes  looked  greedy  to  see,  his  prom 
inent  ears  looked  greedy  to  hear.  He 
puffed  at  his  cigarette. 


282 


XI 

THE    HARBOR 

"Oh,  Mr.  Riddle,  perhaps  I  ought 
not  to  have  sent  for  you,"  began  Miss 
Langthorne.  "Sue  said  I'd  better 
wait;  didn't  you,  Sue?" 

"Yes." 

"But  when  I  came  downstairs  I 
caught  a  glimpse  of  you  with  those  two 
dear  old  ladies " 

"Sh!"  apparently  from  Miss  Cum- 
mings.  "They're  not  old." 

"Oh,  well,  I  don't  call  them  young; 
I  hope,  Sue  Cummings,  you  don't  call 
them  young." 

An  indistinct  murmur  in  response. 

With  the  tail  of  my  eye  I  could  see 
Mr.  Riddle  standing  up,  tall  and 
straight.  The  gorilla  in  the  hammock 
turned  his  head  aside,  but  not  so  much 
aside  that  I  could  not  see  him  grin. 
283 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Then  Miss  Langthorne's  voice  again, 
this  time  rather  subdued,  and  accom 
panied,  I  was  sure,  by  a  glance. 

"How  could  I  rest,  Mr.  Riddle,  until 
I  had  thanked  you?" 

"Oh,  don't— I " 

"Now,  Mr.  Riddle,  you  needn't  make 
light  of  what  you  did.  I  shall  write  to 
papa  this  afternoon.  Don't  you  think 
my  life  is  precious  to  me?" 

"But  somebody  in  the  boats  would 
have  been  sure  to  pick  you  up — and  it's 
nothing  to  jump  off  a  wharf  in  summer. " 

"Mr.  Riddle!"  softly. 

"Miss  Langthorne!" 

"I  shall  write  to  papa.  I  shall — Mr. 
Riddle,  won't  you  shake  hands?" 

The  girl's  voice  faltered. 

"She  is  putting  in  some  good  work 
now,"  I  muttered. 

But  Amabel  pretended  not  to  hear 
me.  She  rose,  and  I  rose  also.  We 
went  by  the  hammock,  who  seoccupant 
had  forgotten  to  puff  for  the  last  few 
minutes. 

284 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

We  walked  to  the  steps  at  the  end  of 
the  lane.  When  we  had  mounted  them 
we  heard  voices  behind  us.  We 
hurried.  Mr.  Riddle  and  Miss  Lang- 
thorne  and  Miss  Cummings  came  up. 
Miss  Langthorne  called  out: 

"Oh,  do  stop  and  say  good-morning. 
I  saw  you  on  the  wharf." 

We  shook  hands.  The  girl  really 
looked  lovely.  It  was  irritating  that 
she  should  have  such  a  pretty  face. 
Why  should  her  eyes  have  hints  in 
them  of  what  could  not  possibly  be  in 
her  heart?  And  just  now,  with  all  her 
vivacity,  there  was  a  touch  of  languor 
in  her  appearance. 

"How  funny  we  should  all  be  in 
Provincetown!"  she  exclaimed.  "You 
going  to  stay  long?  We  mean  to  stop 
till  we're  tired  of  it.  'Twas  a  real  sud 
den  start,  our  coming.  I  like  sudden 
starts,  don't  you?  They're  ever  so 
much  nicer  than  to  plan  for  a  long 
time.  Don't  you  think  they're  ever  so 
much  nicer?  Didn't  I  look  an  awful 
285 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

fright  all  wet?  A  girl's  an  awful  fright 
unless  she  has  just  the  right  kind  of  a 
bathing  suit  on.  Did  you  bring  your 
wheels?  Oh,  I  forgot,  you  were  on 
horseback.  We  left  our  wheels  up  at 
Middleborough.  I  told  Sue  I'd  rather 
row.  I'm  going  in  for  rowing.  Doctor 
says  rowing  is  good  for  the  spine.  I 
find  there's  a  lot  of  things  good  for  the 
spine.  You  row,  Mr.  Riddle?" 

Yes,  Mr.  Riddle  rowed. 

"Oh,  ain't  that  nice?  Come,  Sue, 
we'll  go  up  and  look  at  the  harbor  from 
the  hill." 

She  turned  her  back  on  Mr.  Riddle 
and  walked  away.  Her  companion 
followed  her.  There  was  something  in 
the  action  that  seemed  to  say: 

"After  all,  I  don't  find  it  so  very 
amusing  to  talk  to  you. ' ' 

It  was  a  rebuff  that  might  stimulate. 

Mr.  Riddle  stood  looking  after  her  an 

instant,  his  nostrils  dilated,  an  arch  in 

his  brow.     Then  with  a  little  shrug  of 

the    shoulder,    he    turned    to    us    and 

286 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

repeated  his  invitation  for  us  to  go 
rowing.  • 

As  we  turned  back  to  go  toward  the 
harbor  we  met  Delcina  hastening 
along.  She  had  taken  off  her  big 
apron,  and  she  looked  a  charming 
young  lady.  Off  came  Mr.  Riddle's 
cap,  and  he  made  a  fine  bow  that  was 
full  of  deference.  Delcina  blushed  as 
she  went  by,  and  the  irritation  faded 
from  the  young  man's  face. 

"That's  one  reason  why  I  like  these 
remote  towns  in  New  England," 
remarked  Amabel,  with  some  enthusi 
asm. 

I  looked  at  her  inquiringly;  I  hated 
to  ask  her  point-blank  what  she  was 
talking  about.  As  for  Mr.  Riddle,  he 
actually  beamed  upon  her,  and  I  won 
dered  why,  for  the  beaming  seemed 
rather  impersonal. 

"Because,"  she  said,  with  still  more 

enthusiasm,  "we're  all  free  and  equal 

— or  dream  that  we  are.     There's  that 

Delcina  Jones.     I  should  never  think 

287 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

of  treating  her  any  other  way  than  as  if 
she  were  a  lady,  though  she  waits  on  us 
at  table.  She  is  a  lady.  She  is  well 
educated — she  knows  ever  so  much 
about  music  and — and — just  note  her 
face  and  bearing,  will  you?  And  I 
should  just  like  to  see  any  one  offering 
to  fee  her!" 

"Should  you?"  I  asked.  "Well,  you 
could,  then,  if  you  had  stopped  as  long 
at  table  as  I  did  this  noon. ' ' 

"Who  was  it?"  asked  Mr.  Riddle, 
with  some  fierceness. 

"  'Twas  the  go — I  mean  the  young 
man  in  the  white  suit  and  with  the 
ears.  Delcina  had  just  brought  him 
his  coffee.  He  put  out  his  hand  and 
touched  'hers,  and  showed  her  a  half- 
dollar  in  his  palm.  There  wasn't  any 
one  at  the  table  but  me — and  the  go — 
the  young  man.  He  leered  in  her  face. ' ' 

I  stopped. 

"Well?"  from  Mr.  Riddle. 

"Oh,  nothing  more;  only  Delcina 
walked  away ;  the  half-dollar  fell  to  the 
288 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

floor,  and  it's  there  now  for  aught  I 
know." 

"I'll  pull  that  fellow's  ears  for  him," 
said  Mr.  Riddle. 

"Still,"  said  Amabel,  assuming  her 
judicious  air,  "people  do  fee  waiters, 
and  I  don't  know  that  we  ought  to 
think  it  wrong  to  fee  Delcina. ' ' 

"Wrong?  Oh,  I  don't  know  that  it's 
a  sin,"  explosively  from  Mr.  Riddle, 
"but  I'd  as  soon  think  of  offering  you 
half  a  dollar,  Miss  Waldo.  By  Jove! 
Just  look  at  the  girl's  face;  and  her 
manner's  just  as  good  as  anybody's. 
I'll  certainly  pull  the  cur's  ears." 

Some  one  came  up  hastily  behind  and 
walked  by  us.  It  was  the  young  man 
of  whom  we  were  speaking;  his  cap 
was  in  the  same  position,  and  his  bangs 
were  blowing  in  the  wind.  It  is 
astonishing  how  the  mere  sight  of  some 
people  makes  one's  fingers  itch  to  do  a 
personal  injury. 

Mr.  Riddle  involuntarily  took  a  step 
forward  and  shut  his  hands. 
289 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Then  he  laughed. 

"Oh,  well,  a  fellow  mustn't  whip 
every  puppy  he  sees, ' '  and  his  manner 
relaxed. 

We  had  our  row.  When  we  came  in 
we  went  and  looked  at  our  horses. 
The  men  in  the  stable  contemplated 
Amabel  with  furtive  but  intent  inter 
est.  They  plainly  knew  in  what  way 
she  had  ridden  into  Provincetown.  But 
they  behaved  themselves,  and  spat  their 
tobacco  juice  in  a  self-possessed  manner. 

The  next  day  at  dinner  we  found 
Miss  Langthorne  and  her  friend  sat 
opposite  us,  and  when  we  came  to  the 
roast  Miss  Langthorne  asked  in  a  high 
voice  if  it  were  really  true,  Miss  Waldo, 
that  you  rode  down  here  on  a — on  a 
man's  saddle. 

"Quite  true." 

The  people  at  the  table  made  a  little 
movement  and  glanced  our  way. 

"I  told  Sue,"  went  on  the  speaker, 
"that  I  didn't  believe  it.     Not  but  that 
I  think  reform  is  necessary. ' ' 
290 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Miss  Langthorne  ate  a  bit  of  potato. 
She  took  tip  a  morsel  of  meat  on  her 
fork,  looked  at  it  critically,  then 
glanced  at  us. 

"I  should  think  it  must  have  been 
too  funny  for  anything.  I  wish  I'd 
been  there.  'Twas  after  we  met, 
wasn't  it?  Yes,  of  course — for  then 

you  were  riding  like  a  lady "  I 

felt  my  color  rising,  but  I  kept  my  eyes 
on  my  plate.  "What  made  you  think 
of  such  a  thing?  How  brave  you  must 
be!  Were  you  along,  Mr.  Riddle? 
You  were  a  real  naughty  man  to  disap 
pear  from  Middleborough  as  you  did. 
Didn't  you  know  that  you  were  a  real 
naughty  man?  But  I  shall  have  to  for 
give  you,  since  you  pulled  me  out  of 
the  water.  Didn't  I  look  a  perfect 
fright?  Sue  says  I  looked  a  perfect 
fright;  did  I,  Mr.  Riddle?" 

Mr.  Riddle  protested  that  it  would 
be  impossible,  and  so  forth ;  besides,  he 
had  had  no  opportunity  to  notice. 

Delcina  brought  some  tea  to  Miss 
291 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Langthorne,  who  sniffed  at  it,  raised 
her  eyes  for  an  instant  to  the  face  of 
the  girl  standing  by  her,  and  said : 
"Take  it  away.     I  ordered  coffee. " 
The  insolence  of  the  tone  made  the 
words  like  a  lash  across   the  face.     I 
saw  Delcina  wince  and  her  lip  tremble ; 
but  she  instantly  walked  off  with  the 
cup,  and  Miss  Langthorne  resumed  her 
prattle. 

After  this,  things  happened  just  as  I 
predicted.  Miss  Langthorne  chat 
tered,  and  sparkled  up  to  every  one  in 
the  hotel ;  she  seemed  to  pervade  every 
thing,  and  to  vitiate  the  air  even  of 
Provincetown.  And  she  was  such  a 
pretty  girl!  She  struck  up  an  ac 
quaintance  with  the  young  man  with 
the  ears,  Mr.  Dunn,  and  they  ogled 
each  other  across  the  table.  Mr.  Dunn 
made  poor  jokes,  and  Miss  Langthorne 
laughed  at  them;  that  is,  she  usually 
laughed  at  them,  but  sometimes  she 
snubbed  him  and  listened  to  Mr. 
Riddle.  This  latter  gentleman  was 
292 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

away  much  of  the  time  mornings.  He 
took  a  book  with  him  and  walked  along 
the  road  laid  out  by  the  State  to  the 
sand  dunes — that  great  waste  of  shore 
where  the  sand  blows  in  storms,  and 
shifts  about  into  hills  and  dales.  But 
the  cunning  and  industry  of  man  are 
circumventing  the  powers  of  the  air. 
Beach  grass  and  dwarf  pines,  and 
plants  of  tough  and  spreading  roots,  are 
being  planted  in  this  desert,  and  the 
sand  is  held  down.  By-and-by  there 
will  be  cottages  here,  and  what  a  place 
for  a  mammoth  hotel !  But  hitherto  a 
kind  Providence  has  made  it  impos 
sible  for  anything  to  be  here — save  on 
the  outermost  verge,  by  the  water,  a 
life-saving  station;  and  on  one  of  the 
sand  elevations  a  platform  and  one 
long  bench  have  been  placed.  To  this 
the  State  road  leads.  Here  is  solitude 
— desolation — and  wind  from  heaven 
and  from  the  sea.  There  is  nothing  in 
this  continent  like  the  scene  from  the 
top  of  the  dune  where  the  bench  is 
293 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

placed,  and  where  the  sand  is  already 
caught  and  held  by  the  roots  of  the 
coarse  grass.  That  rolling  sea  of  shin 
ing  sand,  blinding  the  eyes,  and  beyond 
it  the  glittering,  heaving  line  of  the 
ocean.  It  is  all  desolate,  all  fasci 
nating.  It  is  absolutely  different  from 
any  "resort. "  It  is  naked  nature. 

When  Mr.  Riddle  went  away  with 
his  book  it  was  understood  that  he  was 
studying  his  part.  Mr.  Dunn  some 
times  referred  to  this  fact  with  a  sneer 
ing  twist  of  his  bad  little  face.  He 
said  that  Riddle  was  a  bright  fellow  to 
go  out  on  the  dunes — nobody  could 
hear  him  there — deuced  lucky  that 
nobody  could  hear  him. 

Mr.  Dunn  was  very  kind  to  Delcina. 
It  seemed  to  us  that  he  was  always  try 
ing  to  get  a  chance  to  speak  to  her. 
When  she  swept  the  piazza,  of  a  morn 
ing,  though  it  was  early,  before  break 
fast,  I  often  heard  his  voice,  and 
sometimes  hers  in  reply.  I  could  hear 
him  laugh.  Then  I  said  violently  to 
294 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Amabel  that  he  was  a  viper,  and  how 
could  Delcina  even  speak  to  him? 

But  Amabel,  if  she  were  up,  was  at 
such  times  usually  writing  in  her  day 
book  for  the  preceding  twenty-four 
hours. 

Perhaps  I  might  as  well  say  now  that 
we  saw  a  great  deal  of  Mr.  Riddle. 
When  we  did  not  see  him  at  the  hotel 
we  were  continually  meeting  him  in  the 
desert  places  about  the  town ;  and  if  I 
chanced  to  be  on  the  piazza  alone  he 
appeared  from  somewhere,  and  either 
sat  down  by  me  or  asked  me  to  row  or 
to  walk.  If  I  had  had  a  day  book  I 
should  have  confided  to  its  pages  some 
thing  about  the  expression  of  this 
young  man's  eyes,  and  what  he  said. 

And  yet  it  was  not  so  much  what  he 
said  as  the  way  he  said  it.  He  told  me 
all  about  his  hopes  and  ambitions ;  he 
begged  for  my  advice  in  this  matter 
and  that;  he  looked  much  more  than 
he  said. 

In  the  afternoon  it  was  my  custom  to 
295 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

have  a  nap,  but  Amabel  was  wakeful  at 
that  time,  and  she  was  on  the  piazza,  or 
strolling  about  the  quaint  old  town. 

It  was  by  accident  that  I  discovered 
that  her  companion  was  Mr.  Riddle.  I 
call  it  accident,  but  it  was  really 
Albert.  Albert  appeared  to  me  one 
day  as  I  came  down  the  stairs  after 
my  sleep. 

"You're  too  late,"  he  announced. 

"Too  late  for  what?" 

"For  afternoon  courtin'.  He's  gone 
with  Am  rowin'  over  across  to  the 
light." 

"Don't  be  vulgar." 

"Vulgar?  Who's  vulgar,  I  sh'd  like 
to  know?  When  you're  round  he 
courts  you;  when  Am's  round  he  courts 
her;  when  the  Langthorne's  round  he 
courts  her.  'N'  he  makes  just  the 
same  eyes  to  you  all.  I  tell  you,  it 
goes  to  my  stomach.  And  I  like  Rid 
dle  first-rate  when  there  ain't  any  petti 
coats  in  sight.  He's  tiptop  then.  He 
let  me  go  over  on  the  dunes  once  with 
296 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

him  and  hear  him  say  his  part.  I  had 
the  book  and  gave  him  his  cue.  Oh, 
wa'n't  it  great,  though?" 

And  Albert  put  a  hand  on  each  knee 
and  bent  over.  Then  he  straightened 
up.  "When  he  cur-r-rsed  'em  I  guess 
they  heard  him  over  in  Portu-gal;  if 
they  did  not  they  ought  to  be  in  a  deaf 
asylum.  Come,  let's  go  up  on  Town 
Hill  and  squint  through  my  new  tele 
scope." 

Albert  had  set  up  a  telescope,  and 
much  of  the  time  had  it  slung  across 
his  shoulder. 

So  we  went  on  Town  Hill,  and  I  sat 
down  on  one  of  the  benches  facing  the 
town  and  the  harbor,  and  Albert 
walked  about,  leveling  his  glass  here 
and  there. 

Suddenly  he  cried  out:  "Oh,  I  say 
now!"  and  then  became  silent,  his 
glass  to  his  eye.  The  next  moment 
he  exclaimed,  "Oh,  by  George!" 

He  turned  to  me  excitedly. 

"You  just  look!  Who  is  that  out 
297 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

there — near  the  lighthouse — more  to 
the  right — further  to  the  right,  I  say! 
Can't  you  see  anything?" 

It  is  rather  a  difficult  thing  to  find 
an  object  if  you  are  not  accustomed  to 
a  telescope. 

"Can't  you  see  anything?"  im 
patiently. 

"Yes— a  lot  of  things.  Isn't  that 
Mr.  Riddle's  boat,  and " 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  Riddle!  Of 
course  you  found  him!  You'd  find 
him  fast  enough.  Close  to  the  land — 
in  there  at  the  right — in  that  little  boat 
with  the  sail  half  flopping.  Oh,  what 
fools  they  are!" 

Albert  had  taken  the  glass  again. 
He  found  the  object  and  bade  me 
stoop  and  look,  without  moving  the 
glass. 

The  next  moment  into  the  field  of 
vision  there  came  a  small  boat  with 
two  people  in  it,  a  man  and  a  woman. 
I  could  see  the  woman's  face  and 
figure  as  she  stood  with  one  hand  on 
298 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

the  mast.  It  was  Delcina.  Her  hat 
was  off;  I  knew  her  air  and  attitude, 
and  could  almost  have  recognized  her 
features. 

The  man  was  sitting  at  her  feet,  or 
seemed  to  be;  I  thought  he  had  her 
hand.  He  was  dressed  in  white;  I 
could  not  see  his  face  at  all. 

The  boat  was  rocking  strangely,  but 
I  ascribed  the  movement  to  the 
unsteady  way  in  which  the  glass  was 
held. 

"Regular  built  fools!"  cried  Albert. 
"And  it's  that  'tarnal  muff  of  a  Dunn. 
Good  'nough  for  him,  if  she  wasn't 
with  him.  I  sh'd  think  she'd  know 
something  about  boats,  'n'  that  place 
out  there.  The  tide's  wrong.  Why 
don't  somebody  yell  at  'em?  But 
'twouldn't  do  any  good  to  yell.  And 
there  're  no  boats  'round,  either." 

Albert  had  caught  the  glass  away 
from  me,  and  was  gazing  as  he  relieved 
himself  of  these  exclamations. 

With  rny  unaided  vision  I  could  only 
299 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

see  that  there  was  a  boat  with  flapping 
sail  at  the  right  of  the  lighthouse,  and 
that  there  was  no  craft  near  save  Mr. 
Riddle's  boat;  and  that  was  in  the 
middle  distance  between  the  town  and 
the  light. 

Albert  seemed  to  forget  that  I  might 
wish  to  look.  He  went  on  with  his 
exclamations.  I  sat  down  again  on  the 
bench.  Why  should  I  be  specially 
interested  because  Mr.  Dunn  and 
Delcina  were  in  a  boat  in  a  position 
disapproved  of  by  Albert  Waldo? 

In  another  moment  I  became  aware 
that  others  had  ascended  Town  Hill  and 
were  coming  forward  to  view  the  scene. 

"It's  just  too  lovely  for  anything  up 
here;  now  isn't  it,  Mr.  Easton?" 

I  interposed  a  shoulder  between  me 
and  the  speaker,  but  it  was  of  no  use 
— Miss  Langthorne  recognized  me  with 
a  little  shriek  and  came  forward,  ac 
companied  by  a  young  man  who  had 
arrived  two  days  ago.  She  wanted  to 
look  through  the  glass,  and  Albert  sulk- 
300 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

ily  relinquished  it.  Mr.  Easton  stead 
ied  it,  and  after  short  laughs  and  many 
half  smothered  cries  that  were  ex 
tremely  fascinating,  Miss  Langthorne 
succeeded  in  seeing  something  through 
the  telescope. 

Then  she  suddenly  dropped  it  and 
cried : 

"Oh,  they've  tipped  over!  Ain't 
that  the  waiter  girl?" 

Albert  turned  and  dashed  away,  run 
ning  down  the  hill  through  the  beach- 
plum  bushes  rather  than  by  the  path. 

I  gathered  up  the  glass  and  tried  to 
look  through  it,  but  I  could  not  steady 
it.  Miss  Langthorne  uttered  a  series 
of  little  squalls  which  she  evidently 
enjoyed.  Mr.  Easton  endeavored  to 
calm  her  by  saying  that  there  wasn't 
any  danger,  and  there  was  a  boat 
making  out  to  them.  And  everybody 
could  swim,  of  course. 

I  stood  a  moment  with  my  hands  on 
the  railing,  looking  rather  blindly  out 
to  the  harbor.  Two  more  boats  had 
301 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

started  from  somewhere  and  were 
going  as  swiftly  as  possible  toward  that 
spot  where  the  bottom  of  a  boat  swayed 
back  and  forth.  But  Mr.  Riddle  was 
ahead,  and  it  was  he  who  picked  up 
Mr.  Dunn,  who  was  attending  scru 
pulously  to  his  own  safety,  and  then 
Delcina  was  pulled  out  of  the  water. 
It  transpired  afterward  that  Delcina 
had  assisted  her  companion. 

When  they  were  reached  they  were 
both  clinging  to  the  slippery  bottom  of 
the  boat,  which  Dunn's  ignorant  care 
lessness  had  upset. 

I  was  on  the  wharf  when  Mr.  Riddle 
and  Amabel  came  rowing  in.  Amabel 
was  almost  as  wet  as  though  she  her 
self  had  been  in  the  water;  but  she 
was  in  great  spirits.  So  was  Mr. 
Riddle. 

Mr.  Dunn  was  sitting  sulkily  shiver 
ing;  he  was  white  about  the  mouth. 
Delcina  was  in  the  stern,  with  a  shawl 
of  Amabel's  wrapped  about  her. 

As  soon  as  it  was  possible  Dunn 
302 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

sprang  on   to  the  wharf.     He  turned 
and  said  ungraciously: 

"I'm  no  end  obliged,  Riddle." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  was  the 
response. 

Then  Dunn  darted  up  the  street,  and 
Mr.  Riddle  glanced  after  him  for  one 
instant,  and  I  thought  he  said  "Cur!" 
in  an  undertone. 

"I  say  now,  Riddle,"  cried  Albert, 
who  was  helping  Delcina  to  leave  the 
boat,  "ain't  you  a  one-er  for  picking 
folks  out  of  the  water?  I  shan't  dare  to 
go  in  swimming  for  fear  you'll  come  and 
pull  me  out — just  for  glory,  you  know. ' ' 

Delcina  was  on  the  wharf,  the  shawl 
held  closely  to  her. 

"It  was  so  good  of  you,  Mr.  Riddle," 
she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

Then  she  also  ran  up  the  street. 

Albert  put  his  hands  up  to  his  mouth 
and  tooted  a  few  bars  of  "See,  the 
Conquering  Hero  Comes,"  and  Mr. 
Riddle  looked  at  him  and  grinned  as 
he  bade  him  "shut  up." 
303 


S;AND  'N'  BUSHES 

Then  presently  Amabel  and  I  went 
slowly  toward  the  Pacific  House.  She 
did  not  speak  until  we  were  in  our  own 
room  and  she  had  put  on  a  fresh  gown. 
I  have  omitted  to  make  the  important 
statement  that  our  trunks  came  on  the 
third  day  after  our  arrival,  having  gone 
first  to  Marblehead,  for  the  sole  reason, 
apparently,  that  they  were  marked 
Provincetown. 

Amabel  took  her  day  book  in  her 
hands  and  sat  down  by  the  window. 
I  was -disappointed;  it  seemed  incon 
siderate  in  my  friend.  But  she  did  not 
open  her  book.  She  looked  at  me  and 
said  emphatically: 

"The  miserable  skunk!" 

I  asked  her  if  her  remark  referred  to 
present  company. 

She  did  not  reply.  She  went  on  in 
this  wise : 

"The  insufferable  puppy!" 

"Don't  malign  puppies  in  that  way," 
I  remarked. 

"And  I  do  believe  she  loves  him!" 
304 


SAND    'N*    BUSHES 

"What?"  I  shouted;  and  then  more 
quietly,  "You  believe  who  loves 
whom?" 

I  don't  know  now  whether  this 
remark  is  grammar,  but  Amabel  under 
stood  me. 

"That  lovely  Delcina.  There  she 
was  out  there  with  that  gorilla.  I  will 
never  forgive  him  for  looking  as  he 
did  when  I  rode  up  that  day." 

"You  should  have  let  him  drown." 

"Pooh!  I  couldn't.  Mr.  Riddle 
was  going  to  pick  him  up.  You  have 
to  save  vermin,  I  suppose;  they  seem 
necessary  in  the  economy  of  the  uni 
verse.  And  there  she  was,  helping 
him — she  actually  fished  him  up  and 
pulled  him  to  the  boat  so  that  he  could 
cling  to  it." 

"That  doesn't  prove  that  she  loves 
him,  any  more  than  your  lending  a 
hand  proves  that  you  love  him." 

"I  know  that.  I  didn't  say  it  did. 
You  must  think  I'm  an  idiot.  I  saw 
her  watching  him  when  he  scrambled 

305 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

out  of  the  boat  just  now.  She  thought 
he  would  at  least  glance  at  her.  But 
he  didn't;  he  marched  away;  he  was 
thinking  of  his  own  wretched  little 
carcass.  And  he's  been  making  love  to 
her  all  along.  I've  seen  it. " 

"Do  you  call  it  making  love  to  a  girl 
to  offer  her  a  half-dollar?" 

"No;  that  was  his  mistake.  It  was 
like  the  animal,  to  make  a  mistake  like 
that. ' ' 

"I  should  think,"  I  said  severely, 
"that  a  woman  would  find  it  hard  to 
forget  that  kind  of  a  thing.  Just  sup 
pose  that  Mr.  Riddle  should  offer  you 
50  cents." 

"Don't  be  silly." 

But  Amabel  blushed;  I  could  see 
that  she  blushed,  even  through  the 
tan. 

"Now  I'm  on  this  subject,"  I 
continued  with  a  sudden  determina 
tion,  "let  us  come  to  an  understand 
ing." 

"What  understanding?" 
306 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES  ' 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  yet — that  remains 
to  be  seen.  I'm  going  to  ask  a  few 
questions." 

"And  I'll  answer  them  if  I  choose." 

"Yes.  I  shan't  put  you  on  the  rack 
if  you  don't.  First,  does  Mr.  Riddle 
consult  you  about  his  part?" 

"Yes." 

"Asks  your  interpretation  of  differ 
ent  passages?" 

"Yes." 

"As  if  there  were  no  one  else  in  the 
world  whose  opinion  was  of  any  value 
to  him?" 

"Yes;  and  I've  persuaded  him  not  to 
give  that  dreadful  trill  to  the  letter 
R." 

"Oh,  have  you?     So  have  I." 

We  looked  at  each  other  an  instant. 
Then  I  went  on. 

' '  Has  he  told  you  all  about  his  early 
life?" 

"Yes." 

"And  given  you  to  understand  that 
he  never  speaks  to  others  of  those  early 
307 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

privations,  but  that  something  in  you 
— and  so  forth?" 

"He  has.''' 

"And  is  there  a  great  deal  of  expres 
sion  in  his  eyes?" 

"There  is." 

"And  much  tenderness  in  his  voice?" 

"Yes." 

"A  general  but  strong  intimation  in 
his  manner  that  to  you  only  and  you 
alone  can  he  unveil  his  real  self?" 

"Yes." 

"And  have  you  sometimes  felt  that, 
though  you  are  older  than  he — don't 
wince,  please — you  must  be  careful  and 
prevent  him  from  declaring  his  affec 
tion — because  you  don't  wish  to  hurt 
him  by  a  refusal?" 

"Yes." 

I  leaned  back  in  my  chair.  Amabel 
looked  down  at  her  day  book.  She 
fingered  the  leaves. 

"There  is  one  thing  I  nearly  forgot. 
It  is  this:  Has  Mr.  Riddle  hinted  to 
you  that  he  would  wish  to  have  you  for 
308 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

a  kind  of  conscience?  That  he  could 
not  go  far  wrong  if — and  so  on?" 

"He  has." 

"I  thought  so.  He  wants  me  for  his 
conscience,  too.  And  I  think  Lilian 
Langthorne  is  also  to  act  in  that  ca 
pacity. " 

To  my  great  surprise  and  consterna 
tion,  Amabel  carefully  put  her  day  book 
on  the  window  shelf,  drew  out  her 
handkerchief  and  began  to  cry  into  it. 


309 


XII 

ON    THE    DUNES 

At  least  I  thought  she  was  crying; 
but  after  a  moment  I  began  to 
doubt. 

Presently  Amabel  lifted  her  head  and 
showed  a  face  red  with  laughter. 

"Why,"  she  said,  in  a  choked  voice, 
"I've  promised  to  be  a  conscience  to 
him."  Another  peal.  "I  thought  I 
could  safely  promise  that." 

"And  a  sister,  too?"  I  asked. 

"No,  no — a  grandmother — a  grand 
mother  and  a  conscience." 

Down  went  her  face  into  her  hand 
kerchief  again.  Her  shoulders  shook. 

"I'm  afraid,"  I  began  solicitously, 
"that  you  are  hysterical." 

I  was  solemn  enough  myself. 

"Oh,  no;  not  in  the  least.  But  I 
3" 


SAND     'N'    BUSHES 

didn't  suppose  he  was  going  on  the 
same  with  you." 

"What  did  you  think  we  were  talking 
about?" 

"Why — why — the  latest  discoveries 
in  science — biology — and — and — flying 
machines. " 

"It  wouldn't  make  any  difference 
with  Thomas  J.  Riddle.  If  he  were 
talking  about  electric  rays  of  high 
scintillation,  and  if  he  were  alone  with 
a  woman,  he  would  give  her  the 
impression  that  he  was  making  love. 
He  wouldn't  say  so — oh,  no! — but  she 
would  be  absolutely  certain  that  she 
was  the  only  woman  to  whom  he  could 
possibly  speak  in  that  tone.  Why, 
Amabel  Waldo,  there  have  been 
moments  when  I've  believed  that  I 
ought  to  be  sorry  for  him  because  I 
could  not  possibly  return  his  feeling. 
But  you  know  you  can't  tell  a  man  that 
his  love  is  hopeless,  and  you  never  can 
be  his,  just  because  he  is  asking  in  a 
peculiar  tone  and  with  a  peculiar  look 
312 


SAND     'N'    BUSHES 

your  interpretation  of  his  part  of  the 
One-Eyed  Bandit  of  the  Apennines. 
Now,  can  you?" 

"No,  and  you  can't  begin  to  snub 
him  now.  He'll  suspect  that  we  sus 
pect  something,  and  I  wouldn't  have 
him  do  that  for  ten  thousand  worlds. 
He  might  believe  that  we  were  trying 
to  control  our  emotions. ' ' 

"Amabel,"  I  said,  "there  is  one  thing 
we  can  do." 

"What  is  it?  Don't  say  it  is  poison. 
There's  my  bowie-knife,  you  know;  to 
be  sure,  it  is  dull." 

"  Don 't  trifle.  The  thing  for  us  to  do 
is  to  keep  together.  We  have  been  too 
much  separated.  Let  us  always  meet 
him  in  a  solid  phalanx.  It  will  be  hard 
for  even  Mr.  Riddle  to  cast  glances  at 
us  both  at  one  and  the  same  time." 

"Then  if  you  ever  sit  on  the  piazza.  I 
must  be  there,  too;  if  you  go  off  into 
the  waste  spaces  of  Provincetown — " 

"Exactly.  And  when  I  have  my  nap 
in  the  afternoon  you  must  secrete  your- 
313 


SAND     'N'    BUSHES 

self.  One  must  never,  never,  be  seen 
without  the  other. ' ' 

"But  I  love  to  sit  on  Town  Hill— I 
love  to  go  rowing — I  love  to  ride  to  the 
dunes — I  love  to  do  all  these  things 
while  you  are  sleeping  in  the  after 
noons." 

"I  will  sacrifice  my  nap." 

"You  noble  creature!  Speaking  of 
noble  creatures — how  lovely  Mr.  Riddle 
has  always  been  about  my  reformation ! 
I  could  quite  dote  on  him  for  that." 

"Your  reformation?" 

"Yes;  the  cross-tree,  you  know." 

"Well,  you  ma)'  dote  on  him  all  you 
please,  but  beware  of  letting  him  know 
it.  It  is  not  good  for  a  man  to  know 
that  a  woman  dotes  on  him." 

So  we  began.  We  didn't  even  go 
down  the  stairs  alone.  If  Amabel 
stepped  outside  our  door  I  stepped  also. 
We  rode  and  rowed  together  until  we 
overheard  Miss  Langthorne  say  to  Mr. 
Dunn  that  we  were  worse  than  the 
Siamese  twins,  for  they  could  have  been 

314 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

separated  if  you  had  cut  them  apart; 
but  as  for  those  two  women,  no  knives 
could  cut  their  loves  in  two. 

Mr.  Riddle  did  not  slacken  in  his 
attention  for  three  days,  but,  of  course, 
he  was  obliged  to  give  up  his  glances, 
and  what  Amabel  called  his  "low 
notes." 

On  the  fourth  day  we  began  to  be 
quite  sure  that  unless  he  could  seem 
tender  he  lost  his  interest;  "he  back 
slid,"  Amabel  said.  We  were  excess 
ively  pleasant  to  him.  Albert  looked 
on  scowlingly.  He  informed  us  that 
there  were  other  men  in  the  world 
besides  Tom  Riddle ;  there  was  Dunn, 
for  instance,  whereat  Amabel  remarked 
that  she  wished  that  the  spectacle  of 
Dunn,  staging  and  smiling  at  Delcina, 
might  be  removed  from  before  her 
eyes. 

Albert  chuckled  and  asserted  that  he 
knew  a  thing  or  two  that  we  would 
give  anything  to  know.  He  added  that 
women  thought  that  they  could  see 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

through  a  ladder  with  half  the  rungs 
knocked  out,  but  they  couldn't;  they 
were  blinder  than  a  two-days-old 
kitten. 

"What  are  you  talking  about?" 

"Nothing — not  a  thing.  I  didn't 
speak,  did  I?" 

Albert  rolled  his  eyes  and  puckered 
his  mouth  and  became  silent. 

It  was  in  the  afternoon  of  that  day 
that  the  boy  fell  on  his  dirk,  not  on  the 
handle  'of  it,  as  he  should  have  done  if 
he  were  going  to  fall  on  it  at  all,  but 
on  the  point. 

This  accident  his  sister  and  I  had 
long  felt  was  sure  to  happen  some 
time,  but  as  it  had  been  so  long 
delayed  we  had  ceased  to  think  so  much 
about  it. 

We  were  riding  toward  the  Dunes 
along  the  State  road.  This  highway 
is  tolerable  for  the  bicycle  rider,  and 
Albert  was  on  his  wheel.  We  had 
passed  the  wood  of  stunted  trees,  and 
could  see  the  ocean  ahead  of  us. 
316 


SANDi  'N'    BUSHES 

Albert  was  in  front ;  his  wheel  suddenly 
twisted  up  over  a  gnarled  root  and  he 
bounced  off  it  as  if  he  had  been  flung 
from  a  catapult. 

"Oh,  do  you  think  he  had  his  dirk  on 
him?"  cried  Amabel,  as  she  slipped  out 
of  her  saddle. 

I  was  about  to  follow  her  example 
when  she  said: 

"Don't  you  do  it!  You  know  you 
can't  get  on.  And  you  may  have  to 
go  back  for  help. ' ' 

This  was  great  presence  of  mind, 
and  I  obeyed.  I  rode  as  near  as  I 
could. 

Albert  was  sitting  up  in  the  dust. 
He  told  us  we  needn't  be  afraid;  he 
was  all  right. 

He  was  dressed  in  white  sweater, 
white  riding  breeches  and  white  stock 
ings  and  shoes.  I  saw  a  dark  streak 
soaking  slowly  down  the  stockings. 

"Then  why  don't  you  get  up — if 
you're  all  right?"  asked  Amabel,  rather 
tremulously. 

317 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"  'Cause  I  thought  I'd  rest." 

But  Albert  put  his  right  hand  down 
on  the  ground  and  made  an  effort  to 
rise,  and  was  unsuccessful. 

"I  guess  I've  cut  me,"  he  now 
remarked. 

' '  It's  the  dirk !       Oh,  Albert ! ' ' 

"You  needn't  'Oh,  Albert!'"  im 
patiently.  "It's — it's  the  fortune  of 
war.  Pull  her  out,  can't  you?" 

Amabel  was  bending  over  him. 

"The  dirk?  Does  it  hurt  now?" 

"Hurt  now?  You  bet!" 

Amabel  put  her  hand  beneath  his 
belt,  found  the  handle  and  jerked  out 
the  weapon,  flinging  it  off  among  the 
ferns. 

"Don't  you  fling  it  away!  Go  'n'  get 
it!  Go  'n'  get  it,  I  tell  you!  I  ain't 
going  to  lose  that.  I'm  going  to  wear 
it  again." 

His  tone  was  so  peremptory  and  he 
looked  so  distressed  that  Amabel 
hurried  after  the  weapon,  which  she 
placed  in  her  brother's  hand. 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Can  you  stand  up?"  she  asked. 

"Stand  up?  Of  course  I  can.  But 
don't  let  it  bleed,  though!" 

It  did  bleed.  The  stocking  was 
growing  dark  fast. 

"Go  back  and  get  a  carriage!" 
Amabel  commanded  shortly. 

The  Thane  went  at  a  good  gallop. 
It  was  Delcina  whom  I  first  saw  when 
I  reached  the  town,  and  it  was  she  who 
had  a  horse  and  carriage  so  quickly 
ready  that  I  had  no  time  to  be  impa 
tient  ;  it  was  she  also  who  found  a  doctor 
and  took  him  in  the  carriage  with  her, 
driving  fast  while  I  followed  them. 

Amabel  was  sitting  in  the  middle  of 
the  road  with  Albert  leaning  against 
her.  She  had  tied  up  his  leg  above  the 
wound,  but  the  place  looked  as  if  it 
were  soaked  in  blood.  The  boy  was 
rather  white;  still  he  hastened  to  say 
that  it  was  not  the  fault  of  the  dirk  or 
the  wheel,  but  of  that  thundering 
twisted  root  in  the  road.  In  spite  of 
his  words  his  tone  had  not  its  usual 
319 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

strident  assertiveness.  And  when  he 
was  lifted  into  the  wagon  after  the 
doctor  had  temporarily  dressed  the 
hurt,  he  sank  back  against  his  sister's 
shoulder  and  closed  his  eyes.  Amabel's 
face  was  almost  as  colorless  as  his. 
As  for  me,  there  was  mingled  in  my 
regret  for  the  boy's  misfortune  a  very 
decided  feeling  of  indignation  that  he 
should  have  insisted  upon  wearing  that 
dirk.  He  was  bound,  sooner  or  later, 
to  be  injured  by  it. 

I  rode  by  the  forward  wheel ;  it  was 
an  open  carriage  of  the  kind  we  call  a 
democrat.  Hitched  to  the  axle  behind 
was  Amabel's  horse.  The  doctor  and 
Delcina  were  on  the  front  seat,  and 
Delcina  was  driving.  The  wind  had 
blown  her  hat  off,  and  there  was  no 
chance  to  recover  it.  It  all  came  over 
me  again,  how  very  pretty  this  girl 
was,  with  such  sweet  eyes  and  such  a 
gentle  way  of  speaking.  What  a  hor 
rible  thing  it  was  that  she  should  care 
for  a  little  beast  like  Dunn !  She  really 
320 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

ought  to  be  shut  up  rather  than  be  let 
to  marry  him.  But  perhaps  he  was 
only  amusing  himself  with  her  while 
he  was  down  here. 

We  went  at  a  good  pace,  and  had 
nearly  reached  the  town,  having  passed 
the  cemetery,  which  seems  more  popu 
lous  than  the  dwelling-place  of  the 
living.  Albert  opened  his  eyes  and 
moved  his  head  fretfully. 

"I  ain't  going  to  that  hotel,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  yes,"  responded  Amabel,  sooth 
ingly.  "We  must  go  there  until  you 
get  well. ' ' 

"I  tell  you  no — no!  It's  so  noisy 
there — everybody  slams — and  Dunn  is 
there.  I  won't  go." 

"Bat  you  must." 

"But  I  won't.  I  tell  you  what,  take 
me  to  Pedro's — he'll  have  me.  He's  a 
brick.  He's  got  a  little  room  like  a 
ship's  cabin — he  said  I  could  sleep  in 
that  room  if  I  came  down  next  summer, 
and  I'm  coming — to  fish.  I'll  go  there 
now — I  will  go  there  now ! ' ' 
321 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Delcina  had  pulled  in  the  horse. 

"I  don't  know  who  Pedro  is,"  said 
Amabel  helplessly. 

"He's  a  Portugee  that  lives  out 
here  behind  the  town, ' '  said  the  doctor ; 
"wife  can't  walk;  queer  case,  hers  is." 

"Why,  it's  Sarah  Ramsey  that  mar 
ried  a  Portugee!"  I  exclaimed,  and  I 
added  that,  of  course,  they  couldn't 
have  him. 

But  Albert  asserted  and  asserted. 
He  said  he  knew  Pedro;  had  been 
fishing  lots  with  him ;  Pedro  would  be 
splendid  to  take  care  of  him,  and 
Amabel  might  come  when  she  chose ; 
he  should  get  \vell  twice  as  quick 
there. 

It  soon  became  apparent  that  nothing 
would  do  but  that  we  must  at  least 
drive  to  Pedro's.  It  was  no  time  to 
cross  any  whim  of  Albert's.  The  boy 
sank  back  again  on  his  sister's  shoulder. 

"That's  the  talk,"  he  said.  "You 
bring  my  traps  over  from  the  hotel. 
We'll  pay  Pedro  as  much  as  I'm  paying 
322 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

at  the  Pacific.  He'll  be  all  right.  It's 
just  prime  there." 

So  the  horse  was  turned  from  the 
town  into  the  cart  path  that  but  indis 
tinctly  marked  the  way  among  the 
bushes  toward  the  solitary  house. 

A  tall  man  with  a  lean,  dark  face  was 
throwing  some  corn  to  the  hens  in 
front  of  the  house.  The  door  was 
open,  and  the  little  girl  could  be  seen 
on  her  knees  scrubbing  the  floor.  She 
paused  at  the  sight  of  us,  remain 
ing  on  all  fours  as  she  gazed  at  us,  the 
hot  water  in  her  small  wooden  tub 
making  a  mist  about  her. 

"Sarah,"  a  voice  called,  "who  is  it?" 

"Folks  from  the  hotel  —  them 
women,"  was  the  shrill  reply. 

Meantime  the  tall  man  advanced  to 
the  carriage  and  leaned  on  the  wheel. 
He  had  very  kind  eyes;  a  spare  gray 
mustache  curled  in  over  his  upper  lip. 

"Hullo,  boy,"  he  said,  looking  at 
Albert,  "you  white — seaseek,  eh?" 

"No,  no.  You  tell  him,  Am.  That's 
323 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Pedro.  Tell  him  I've  got  to  stay 
here. ' ' 

Amabel  leaned  forward  and  quickly 
made  known  our  errand. 

"I  want  the  cabin,  you  know,  Pedro, ' ' 
from  Albert. 

"Yes,  yes.  You  shall  haf  it.  All 
ready.  Sarah,"  turning,  "you  go  open 
de  cabin  door.  Come." 

The  man  went  to  the  back  of  the 
wagon,  pushed  the  seat  forward  a 
little,  let  down  the  tail  piece  and 
extended  his  arms.  While  he  was 
doing  this  the  voice  in  the  house  asked : 

"Sarah,  what  do  they  want?  Sarah, 
I  say,  what  do  they  want?" 

"I  don't  know,  ma." 

Then  Sarah  disappeared,  and  we 
heard  a  door  open.  Meantime,  two 
hens  walked  in  on  to  the  freshly  washed 
floor,  somebody  said  "Shoo!  shoo!" 
violently,  and  the  hens  walked  out. 

I  was  aware  of  all  this,  though  I  was 
absorbingly  watching  Pedro  as  he  lifted 
Albert  from  the  carriage  with  ease  and 
324 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

walked  with  him  in  his  arms  into  the 
house. 

Amabel  and  the  doctor  followed.  I 
sat  my  horse  in  the  hot  sunshine  and 
smelled  the  keen  odor  of  the  bayberry 
which  The  Thane  was  trampling  with 
an  impatient  forefoot. 

Since  I  had  seen  Pedro's  face  with 
its  look  of  warm  humanity  I  did  not 
wonder  at  Albert's  determination. 

Delcina  was  in  the  democrat,  holding 
the  lines,  not  blinking  in  the  least  in 
the  sunlight.  Two  or  three  times  we 
heard  a  voice  say,  "Sarah!  where  are 
you,  Sarah?" 

At  last  Delcina  left  the  carriage  and 
went  into  the  house,  and  from  the  mur 
mur  of  her  tones  I  knew  she  was 
explaining  what  had  happened  to  the 
woman  who  sat  there  in  her  chair 
waiting  to  be  told. 

At  last  Amabel  came  out.  She 
looked  relieved,  though  anxious. 

"It's  all  right— about  Pedro,"  she 
said  hurriedly.  "There  couldn't  be 
325 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

anybody  better.  He's  lovely — and  so 
strong.  I'll  stay  here  to-day." 

So  I  rode  home,  and  Delcina  drove 
the  horse  in  the  democrat,  and  the  led 
horse  was  on  behind.  Miss  Lang- 
thorne  and  Mr.  Riddle  were  just  com 
ing  up  from  the  wharf,  and  had  turned 
into  the  lane  where  the  Pacific  House 
stood.  Mr.  Riddle's  head  was  bent 
down  toward  Miss  Langthorne,  and  she 
was  looking  up  at  him,  and  as  she 
looked  up  she  saw  us  and  her  expres 
sion  instantly  changed.  I  could  not 
help  glancing  to  see  if  Delcina  had 
noticed  these  two.  She  was  gazing 
with  serious,  questioning  eyes  at  them ; 
her  delicate  mouth  drooped  slightly. 
She  was  evidently  considering  these 
people  as  a  kind  of  puzzle,  not  really 
expecting  to  understand  it. 

Miss  Langthorne  was  in  a  blue 
yachting  suit,  with  a  sailor  hat  whose 
blue  ribbons  had  silver  anchors  in  high 
relief  on  them.  She  was  also  in  great 
spirits,  and  she  came  forward  and  asked 
326 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

glibly  why  we  were  out  in  such  a  pro 
cession,  and  "did  we  know  what  a  per 
fectly,  perfectly" — very  emphatic  on 
the  last  word. — "lovely  day  it  was — 
only  Sue  Cummings  had  been  sick." 
As  for  her,  Lilian  Langthorne,  she  had 
never  been  seasick  in  her  life.  She 
hadn't  the  least  idea  what  the  sensation 
was.  Everybody  wondered  at  her  for 
being  such  a  good  sailor. 

She  laughed,  and  hummed  in  a  small 
treble — 

Oh,  the  sea !  the  sea !  the  ever  free ! 

And  then  she  glanced  at  Mr.  Riddle, 
who  was  occupied  in  looking  at  us. 
Down  at  the  steps  that  led  into  the  lane 
Miss  Cummings  appeared,  very  white 
and  miserable  as  to  her  face  and 
languid  as  to  her  gait. 

"Where  is  Miss  Waldo?"  asked  Mr. 
Riddle. 

"To  be  sure!"  from  Miss  Lang 
thorne.  "That  is  her  saddle,  ain't  it? 
— though  I  can't  make  it  seem  as  if  it 
327 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

belonged   to  a   woman,  can  you,    Mr. 
Riddle?" 

And  so  on.  I  turned  my  horse  short 
about  and  rode  to  the  stable,  followed 
by  Delcina  in  the  democrat,  with 
Amabel's  horse  coming  on  in  a  melan 
choly  manner  behind. 

I  walked  back  with  Delcina.  She 
hurried.  She  said  that  she  should  be 
late  at  her  work.  Her  face  kept  on  its 
serious  expression,  the  soft  eyes  even 
becoming  wistful.  At  the  door  of  the 
hotel  she  paused  and  looked  at  me. 

"Please  tell  your  friend  not  to  worry 
about  her  brother.  Pedro  will  take 
such  good  care  of  him ;  Pedro  is  as  kind 
as" — she  hesitated,  then,  with  a  sor 
rowful  little  smile,  "as  kind  as  a  Por- 
tugee — and  that's  kind  enough." 

She  ran  up  the  stairs.  At  dinner  she 
was  waiting  on  the  table  with  the 
silent,  deft  haste  which  was  character 
istic  of  her.  Mr.  Dunn  was  in  his 
place.  He  was  very  wordy  about  a 
visit  he  had  paid  to  a  yacht  that  had 


SAND    'N1    BUSHES 

come  into  the  harbor  late  the  night 
before.  It  belonged  to  a  friend  of  his, 
"Ned,"  he  called  him.  It  seemed  that 
Ned  was  strongly  desirous  that  Dunn 
should  leave  Provincetown  and  join 
him  on  a  cruise  down  the  coast.  Dunn 
couldn't  make  up  his  mind. 

All  the  time  he  was  talking  he  kept 
his  eye  upon  Delcina,  who  was  standing 
at  the  end  of  the  room,  watching  to 
see  what  was  needed.  When  at  last  she 
passed  round  the  table  behind  him  he 
put  his  hand  down  and  touched  her 
hand.  I  was  sure  he  succeeded  in 
touching  it  from  the  scarlet  that  flew 
into  her  face.  She  hastened  on. 

I  raised  my  eyes  and  saw  Mr.  Riddle 
looking  at  Dunn.  Riddle's  face  was 
as  white  as  anything  so  brown  could 
be,  and  his  eyes  were  blazing.  He  soon 
rose  and  left  the  room.  After  a  time 
Mr.  Dunn  leisurely  strolled  out. 

It  was  in  the  latter  part  of  the  after 
noon  that,  going  out  to  visit  Pedro's 
house  by  way  of  Town  Hill,  I  was 
329 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

joined  by  Mr.  Riddle.  He  was  very 
red  and  heated,  and  breathed  as  if  he 
had  been  hurrying  up  the  hill.  But  he 
endeavored  to  speak  in  a  calm  way. 
He  announced  that  he  had  been  to 
Pedro's  and  everything  was  going  on 
well.  Was  I  in  a  great  hurry?  Would 
I  sit  down  on  one  of  these  benches  for 
a  moment?  Miss  Waldo  would  come 
back  to  the  hotel  in  the  evening;  he 
was  going  for  her. 

"Yes,"  I  thought,  "and  how  tenderly 
sympathetic  you  will  be ! " 

I  refrained  from  telling  him  that 
Miss  Waldo  was  perfectly  able  to  walk 
alone  from  Pedro's  to  the  Pacific  House. 
I  decided  to  be  at  Pedro's,  so  that  on 
the  return  the  phalanx  of  two  should 
not  be  broken. 

Mr.  Riddle  took  off  his  straw  hat  and 
fanned  himself.  I  sat  on  the  bench 
and  looked  out  over  the  harbor,  which 
was  lying  gray  beneath  a  sultry,  cloudy 
sky. 

Suddenly  my  companion  put  on  his 
330 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

hat  in  a  forcible  manner.     He  thrust 
his  hands  into  his  pockets. 

"Well,"  he  said,  expelling  his  breath 
sharply,  "I've  been  and  done  it.  I 
knew  I  should  have  to  some  day." 

"Done  what!" 

"Yes,  it  was  bound  to  come." 

"What  was  bound  to  come?"  I  was 
getting  excited. 

' '  Why,  the  thrashing. ' ' 

I  stood  up  suddenly. 

"Oh,"  I  cried,  "I  do  hope  it's  Mr. 
Dunn!" 

"Yes,"  sardonically,  "that's  pre 
cisely  the  animal." 

I  laughed.  I'm  afraid  I  clapped  my 
hands.  Then  I  remembered  that  there 
were  other  people  on  other  benches  on 
the  hill,  and  I  tried  to  restrain  myself. 

"Perhaps  it's  not  the  thing  to  tell 
you,  but  I  feel  as  if  I  must  tell  some 
body. " 

"Yes,  it  is  precisely  the  thing  to  tell 
me,"    I   responded.     I    glanced   about 
me.     "Where  is  Mr.  Dunn  now?" 
33i 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Mr.  Riddle  laughed. 

"He's  out  on  the  dunes  resting. 
And  he's  got  a  red  mark  across  his 
face.  I  suppose  I  ought  not  to  have 
given  it  to  him." 

"I  saw  him  at  table,"  I  remarked. 

Mr.  Riddle's  eyes  flashed,  and  he 
shut  his  mouth  until  it  was  little  more 
than  a  white  line.  Then  he  opened  his 
lips  to  say  that  he  also  saw  Dunn  at 
table. 

"I  went  away  as  fast  as  I  could,"  he 
went  on,  "for  I  knew  if  I  happened  to 
see  him  I  should  hit  out  at  him  in  spite 
of  myself,  and  it  would  not  be  a  pretty 
thing  to  do  on  the  piazza  there,  for 
instance ;  we  might  knock  down  some 
lady  in  the  scrimmage."  Here  the 
young  man  laughed  again,  this  time 
with  some  bitterness. 

"Of  course,  I  was  a  fool  to  touch 
him,  but  I  was  mighty  careful  to 
pretend  it  was  something  else  I  was 
thinking  of.  And  I  really  did  mean  to 
keep  out  of  his  way  until  I  had  cooled 
332 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

off  a  little.  A  man  does  not  want  to 
soil  his  hands,  you  know."  Here  Mr. 
Riddle  flung  up  his  head  with  a  fine 
air  that  was  genuine,  I  was  sure,  though 
it  was  a  trifle  dramatic.  I  wouldn't 
smile;  I  sat  solemnly  silent,  listening. 
"Yes,  I  did  mean  to  steer  clear  of 
him,  so  I  rushed  off  down  across 
country  here  back  of  Pedro's  to  the 
sands.  And  I  tried  to  think  of  my 
Part  and  your  interpretation  of  the 
Bandit,  you  know" — here  a  swift 
glance — "but  it  wasn't  of  much  use;  I 
was  too  thundering  angry.  I  had  that 
little  Malacca  cane  with  me — no  I 
haven't  got  it  now — it's  broken.  I 
ploughed  along  through  the  heavy 
sand  toward  the  life-saving  station. 
There 're  one  or  two  good  fellows  over 
there,  and  I  thought  I'd  have  a  game 
of  high-low;  we've  had  a  notion  of 
playing  high-low  just  for  quarters,  and 
fun,  you  know.  Well,  it  took  up  my 
mind,  getting  through  that  sand,  and 
by  the  time  I  stepped  into  the  house  I 
333 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

didn't  think  of  much  else  but  that  I 
must  have  a  drink  of  something  cold. 
There  was  Dunn  stretched  out  in  a 
canvas  chair  in  his  eternal  white  duck, 
with  a  glass  of  something  iced  in  his 
hand,  sipping  it  and  telling  some  story. 
He  always  has  a  look  on  his  face  when 
he  is  talking  as  if  he  were  telling  some 
thing  vile.  The  seeing  him  turned  me 
hotter  than  I  was.  I  nodded  and  sat 
down  in  the  doorway. 

"There  were  cards  on  a  table,  and 
after  a  while  we  began  to  play.  I  was 
longing  to  find  that  Dunn  cheated,  but 
I  don't  think  he  did.  The  sight  of  his 
pallid  little  face  there  near  me  was 
unendurable.  I  bore  it  as  long  as  I 
could,  but  finally  I  started  up.  He 
said  something  about  my  being  afraid 
to  play  for  fear  I'd  lose  my  quarters, 
and  I  told  him  he  was  a  fool  and  a 
scamp.  Then  I  flung  out  of  the  house 
and  started  back  over  the  sands.  I 
heard  him  laugh  as  I  went.  After 
about  half  a  mile  I  sat  down  in  the 

334 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

shade  of  one  of  those  sand  hillocks  and 
began  to  smoke.  I  knew  I'd  been 
wrong  in  calling  him  what  I  did,  tinder 
the  circumstances,  and  that  knowledge 
didn't  soothe  me. 

"You  can't  hear  footsteps  in  the  sand 
very  well,  and  I  hadn't  heard  a  thing 
when  about  an  hour  later  Dunn  walked 
into  view.  He  stopped  quick  when  he 
saw  me  and  looked  as  if  he  wished  he 
could  turn  back,  but  he  couldn't  very 
well,  so  he  gave  his  little  laugh  that 
always  sets  my  teeth  on  edge. 

"He  took  his  cigarette  out  of  his 
mouth  and  remarked  that  he  s'posed 
the  dunes  weren't  private  property, 
and  he  wasn't  intruding. 

"I  was  on  my  feet  by  this  time.  If 
he  hadn't  laughed  once  more  I  don't 
think  I  should  have  done  what  I  did. 
But  I  said,  quite  calm  and  cold : 

'You're  a  dirty  skunk,  and  you  know 
it.' 

"He  fell  back  a  step. 

'  'Oh,    come    now!'    he    cried,    and 
335 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

lifted  up  one  arm  as  if  in  defense. 
Then  he  said,  'Same  to  you.  Are  you 
rehearsing?' 

"He  chuckled.  He  took  a  puff  at 
his  cigarette  and  flung  it  away.  You 
know  his  way  of  half  shutting  his  eyes. 
He  did  that  now.  I  made  a  step 
nearer  and  struck  him  across  the  face. 
I  was  thinking  of  how  he  had  behaved 
at  table,  and  I  struck  him  again.  I 
could  hear  the  whizz  of  my  cane 
through  the  hot  air,  and  the  sound 
drove  me  on.  I  should  have  given  it 
to  him  again,  only  the  second  time  the 
stick  broke  short  off  and  I  flung  the 
top  of  it  at  him. 

"One  blow  had  landed  fair  on  his 
face,  but  the  other  had  hit  his  doubled- 
up  arm. 

"He  made  a  sound;  I  didn't  know 
whether  it  was  a  curse  or  a  groan.  I 
didn't  wait  to  hear.  I  walked  off.  He 
shouted  after  me  that  I  should  hear 
from  this.  I  wheeled  and  shouted 
back,  'All  right!  I'm  ready!'  then  I 
336 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

kept  on.  When  I  came  down  into  the 
street  I  looked  up  and  saw  you  here. 
I  couldn't  help  coming  and  telling  you. 
It's  all  ridiculous,  isn't  it?  But  some 
body  had  to  abate  that  creature.  I 
might  as  well  be  the  one.  Don't  you 
think  I  might  as  well  be  the  one?" 

As  he  asked  this  question  Mr.  Riddle 
raised  his  hat  to  a  couple  of  ladies  who 
were  sauntering  round  the  path  that 
led  to  the  railing.  They  were  looking 
off  at  the  beautiful  picture  the  harbor 
made,  with  its  protecting  strips  of 
land  on  the  outermost  verge  of  the 
water.  They  smiled  at  my  companion 
in  that  way  that  women  usually  smiled 
at  him.  They  seemed  about  to  pause 
to  enter  into  conversation  with  him, 
but  they  went  on,  uttering  exclamations 
of  delight  at  the  outlook. 

"Two  Boston  ladies  who  came  down 
in  the  boat  yesterday,"  said  Mr. 
Riddle,  explanatorily.  "They're  stop 
ping  at  the  Harbor  Inn.  They  know 
Dunn."  A  slight  pause,  and  then, 
337 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

with  a  constrained  laugh,  "In  fact,  that 
elder  one  is  Dunn's  aunt,  and  the  other 
one  is  his  sister." 

"Oh!"  I  cried. 

"Odd,  isn't  it?  But  I  don't  know 
why  he  shouldn't  have  an  aunt  and  a 
sister.  Wonder  what  they'd  say  to  me 
if  they  knew  what  I'd  been  doing-?" 

"That  younger  one — sister,  I  sup 
pose — wouldn't  smile  as  sweetly  as  she 
did  just  now." 

"By  Jove!  I'm  sure  they'd  hate  me. 
Wonder  what  Dunn  will  say  gave  him 
that  welt  down  his  mug. ' ' 

I  wondered,  too.  And  I  looked  very 
earnestly  for  Mr.  Dunn  to  appear  at 
breakfast  the  next  morning.  I  sug 
gested  to  Amabel,  to  whom  I  had 
related  the  above  tale,  that  the  young 
man  would  remove  himself  to  the  Har 
bor  Inn,  that  he  might  be  with  his 
relatives.  But  he  did  no  such  thing. 
Perhaps  his  society  was  not  of  the  kind 
adored  by  female  relatives  in  general. 
He  did  not  appear  at  the  table  at  his 
338 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

usual  time  until  the  next  day  at  dinner, 
and  then  he  had  a  dark  line  across  his 
nose  and  one  cheek.  He  paid  no  atten 
tion  to  anything  but  his  dinner,  save 
that  once  I  saw  him  look  up  at  Mr. 
Riddle  when  the  latter  made  some 
remark.  He  looked  very  evil,  but  his 
general  appearance  was  so  ineffective 
that  I  was  not  anxious.  Amabel  saw 
the  expression,  and  she  remarked  that 
Dunn  was  a  little  snake,  and  snakes 
sometimes  bit  the  heel  that  had  tramped 
on  them.  I  watched  Delcina  that  day 
to  see  what  would  be  her  expression 
when  she  saw  Dunn.  She  was  startled. 
A  wave  of  faint  color  rose  and  subsided 
on  her  face.  The  hand  that  was  carry 
ing  a  soup  plate  trembled  slightly.  I 
think  it  was  from  that  moment,  rather 
than  from  the  time  when  I  had  listened 
to  Mr.  Riddle's  story,  that  I  had  the 
first  feeling  as  if  I  were  living  quite 
close  to  some  kind  of  a  story,  a  story 
that  might  burst  out  into  a  bit  of  melo 
drama  at  any  time.  I  had  a  wish  to  go 

339 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

to  Delcina  and  remonstrate  with  her 
for  being  interested  in  such  a  wretched 
cad  as  Dunn.  How  in  the  world  had 
he  won  her  interest?  But  I  did  not  say 
a  word  to  her.  On  second  thought  I 
knew  better  than  to  meddle  where  I 
had  no  shade  of  right  to  meddle. 
What  was  it  to  me?  And  perhaps  Dunn 
was  really  an  exemplary  young  man 
with  a  face  and  manner  that  traduced 
him.  Perhaps  face  and  manner  did 
traduce  sometimes,  though  I  did  not 
believe  it. 

We  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  at 
Pedro's.  We  heard  again  and  again 
all  about  the  ailments  of  Sarah  Ram 
sey,  that  married  a  Portugee.  And 
we  saw  much  of  Pedro,  and  grew  to  be 
as  fond  of  him  as  was  Albert. 

As  for  Albert,  he  was  in  the  bunk 
that  was  built  into  the  side  of  the 
cabin.  The  cabin  was  a  bit  of  a  "lean- 
to"  on  the  back  of  the  house.  It  was 
about  two  and  a  half  paces  long  and 
two  paces  broad ;  it  was  painted  milk- 
340 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

white  with  gilt  edges ;  it  had  a  port-hole 
at  one  end,  and  when  the  sea  wasn't 
too  heavy  this  port-hole  was  uncovered. 
A  shelf  was  screwed  on  to  the  wall  on 
the  side  where  the  bunk  was  not. 
There  was  a  stool  in  the  place ;  on  this 
stool  Pedro  sat,  although  there  was  no 
reason  why  he  should  not  have  had  a 
rocking-chair  and  been  comfortable. 
When  reasoned  with  upon  this  subject 
he  smiled  and  said  he  was  used  to  it. 


XIII 

FAREWELL,       PROVINCETOWN 

Of  course  it  was  much  more  difficult 
to  take  care  of  Albert  in  a  bunk  in  a 
cabin  than  it  would  have  been  to  care 
for  him  in  an  ordinary  bed  in  an  ordi 
nary  room.  But  this  arrangement 
afforded  him  such  happiness  that  no 
one  felt  to  deprive  him  of  it. 

Amabel  at  first  asked  him  with 
pathetic  earnestness  if  he  would  really 
rather  be  screwed  up  against  the  wall 
than  in  a  Christian  bed,  and  he 
answered,  "A  million  times  rather!" 
so  she  desisted. 

' '  'Tain't  much  of  a  cut, ' '  he  remarked, 
rather  boastfully. 

Amabel  and  I  were  in  the  cabin,  or 

rather  Amabel  was  in  it  and  I  was  as 

nearly  in  as  I  could  get.    The  port-hole 

was  open,  and  a  breath  of  air  came  in 

343 


SAND     'N'    BUSHES 

occasionally.  Sarah.  Ramsey,  the 
younger,  was  standing  directly  behind 
me  with  a  plate  and  dish-towel  in  her 
hand.  She  was  apparently  "doing" 
the  dinner  dishes.  She  was  clad  in  the 
frock  which  had  fluttered  about  her  at 
our  first  interview,  but  her  mother  had 
sewed  up  the  long  rents  in  it.  She 
was  evidently  straining  every  nerve  to 
hear  what  was  being  said  in  the  cabin. 

"Sarah  Ramsey,"  called  her  mother 
from  the  chair,  "your  dish-water  '11  be 
as  cold  as  stone. ' ' 

"No,  ma'am." 

"Yes,  it  will;  and  you  can't  get  the 
fat  off  that  fry-pan  with  cold  water." 

"Yes,  ma'am,  I  can,  too."  And  the 
child  continued  in  her  position. 

"No,"  said  Albert,  "  'tain't  much  of 
a  cut.  Any  other  feller  that  had  got  a 
header's  I  did  with  a  dirk  hitched  on  to 
him  would  have  taken  his  leg  clean  off. ' ' 

"Perhaps,"  suggested  his  sister,  "you 
can  take  your  leg  clean  off  next  time. ' ' 

"That's  just  like  you." 

344 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Albert  had  a  paper-covered  edition  of 
"The  One-Legged  Apache  of  the  Salt 
Plains"  open  on  his  chest,  and  he  was 
fingering  the  leaves  as  if  impatient  for 
his  visitors  to  leave  him;  but  as  we 
showed  no  signs  of  going,  he  asked 
how  that  Langthorne  woman  was.  We 
replied  that  she  seemed  very  well, 
indeed.  Then  he  inquired  who  was 
her  first  flirter  now;  and  we  said  we 
didn't  know,  whereupon  Albert  laughed 
and  retorted  that  we  did  know,  too ;  it 
was  Riddle,  of  course. 

Then  he  made  us  tell  him  all  over 
again  about  the  encounter  wherein  Mr. 
Riddle  had  broken  his  cane  upon  Mr. 
Dunn's  face;  and  once  more  Amabel 
warned  him  not  to  laugh  so  much,  for 
he  would  burst  open  the  stitches  the 
doctor  had  taken  in  his  flesh  and  that 
dreadful  bleeding  might  begin  again. 
But  Albert  knew  better.  Still  he, 
restrained  his  laughter  somewhat. 

He  opened  the '  'One-Legged  Apache ' ' 
ostentatiously,  but  we  did  not  budge. 
345 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Can't  I  do  something  for  you?" 
asked  Amabel.  "Mayn't  I  rub  your 
back,  or — " 

"Oh,  bosh!  What  do  you  think  I 
want  my  back  rubbed  for?  My  back's 
all  right.  Ain't  this  a  jolly  cabin, 
though?  Pedro  built  it  himself.  It's 
really  his  room,  you  know,  and  I've 
turned  him  out.  He  sleeps  on  the  floor 
here;  it's  just  big  enough.  And  he 
never  heard  about  Peggotty's  house; 
I  asked  him.  I  say,  what's  really  the 
matter  with  the  old  lady  there?  Sarah 
Ramsey  says  she's  ossifying." 

"So  she  is,"  in  a  small  pipe  from 
Sarah  Ramsey,  who  had  gone  to  the 
sink  and  procured  a  pudding-dish, 
which  she  was  now  wiping  in  her 
former  position  behind  me. 

"That's  a  good  one,"  with  a  silent 
giggle.  ' '  I  say, ' '  abruptly  changing  the 
subject,  "how  many  pieces  does  the 
Langthorne  woman  have  at  her  belt 
now?" 

"She  has  added  a  small  silver  cup 
346 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

and  saucer,"  I  said,  over  Amabel's 
head.  Amabel  was  on  the  stool  close 
to  the  bunk. 

I  should  state  that  we  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  "keeping  count"  of  Miss 
Langthorne's  objects  at  her  belt. 
Attached  to  a  tailor-made  suit  which 
she  sometimes  wore  on  a  cool  day  was 
a  belt,  and  at  the  left  side  of  this  belt 
were  the  following  articles,  all  of  silver : 
One  vinaigrette,  one  small  oblong 
purse,  one  heart  about  three  inches 
across,  one  tiny  revolver,  one  button 
hook,  one  article  of  a  book  shape,  one 
Turkish  scimiter,  one  Greek  cross,  and 
now  one  cup  and  saucer  fastened  to 
each  other  by  a  chain.  All  these 
things  had  chains,  and  they  all  jingled 
when  she  moved.  In  this  suit  one  could 
hear  her  approach,  and  be  ready  braced 
for  the  incisive  attack  of  her  voice. 

"Oh!"  cried  Albert,  "ain't  it  funny 
what  Riddle  can  see  in  that  girl?" 

He  looked  sharply  from  Amabel  to 
me. 

347 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"I  suppose  she  is  very  entertaining," 
said  Amabel,  demurely.  And  Albert 
said,  "So's  a  lien." 

This  remark  terminated  our  inter 
view  at  this  time.  We  retired  from  the 
cabin  and  were  obliged  to  sit  down  in 
the  kitchen,  where  the  small  child 
resumed  with  a  clatter  the  washing  of 
dishes,  and  where  Mrs.  Gonzaga — called 
here  Gungegy — told  us  all  about  her 
bones,  and  what  the  doctors  had  said 
regarding  them.  This  familiar  tale 
buzzed  languidly  in  our  ears  as  the  flies 
buzzed  about  some  fish  heads  which 
Pedro  had  unwisely  left  on  the  ground 
near  the  door. 

At  last,  just  as  the  doctor  from  Bos 
ton,  attracted  by  the  fame  of  her  case, 
had  come  down  to  examine  for  himself, 
Pedro's  wife  interrupted  her  narrative 
to  exclaim: 

"Sarah  Ramsey,  you  go  'n'  git  them 
fish  heads  'n'  put  um  in  the  stove.  We 
sh'll  be  eat  up  alive  here  with  flies!" 

But  before  Sarah  could  step  from  the 

343 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

door,  a  tawny,  waddling  puppy  rose 
from  beneath  a  beach  plum  bush 
where  he  had  been  burrowing  in  the 
sand,  came  forward  and  took  one  fish 
head,  standing  over  the  remaining  two 
in  a  protective  attitude.  The  flies 
buzzed  up,  then  settled  down  again  on 
dog's  nose  and  the  fish. 

"I  can't  get  um — Trooper's  got  um," 
explained  Sarah. 

The  next  moment  they  had  all  dis 
appeared  down  the  dog's  throat,  and  he 
came  lazily  forward,  the  bright  sunlight 
making  his  eyes  look  sleepy. 

"I  hope  you  like  him  better  than  a 
kitten,"  remarked  Amabel. 

It  was  she  who,  stung  by  an  unsleep 
ing  conscience,  had  procured  this  St. 
Bernard  puppy  and  presented  it  to  the 
young  Sarah  Ramsey  as  a  substitute 
for  the  lost  kitten. 

There    were    five    Bernard   puppies 

growing  up,  in  a  yard  nearly  opposite 

the  Pacific  House.     If  we  had  not  seen 

them  we  should  have  known  they  were 

349 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

there,  for  one  or  more  of  the  five  were 
always  barking,  or  whining,  or  crying 
acutely  under  maternal  chastisement. 
They  were  attractive  persons,  with 
their  thick  legs  and  big  feet,  and  their 
broad,  intelligent  heads.  My  friend 
informed  me  that  there  were  two 
reasons  why  she  negotiated  for  one  of 
these  dogs,  one  reason  being  that  she 
could  present  it  to  Sarah  Ramsey  as  a 
sort  of  atonement,  the  other. that  if  one 
were  removed  from  that  yard  there 
would  be  one  less  to  cry  and  bark  in 
the  hours  between  12  and  3  a.  m.  She 
says  she  loves  dogs,  but  she  needs  sleep 
during  the  above  hours.  She  has 
spoken  feelingly  of  the  possibility  of 
administering  soothing  syrup,  but  the 
canine  mother  is  on  guard  at  all  times. 
These  puppies  are  very  agreeable 
when  we  pass  by  the  fence  during  the 
day.  They  come  tumbling  forward 
and  put  their  noses  between  the 
palings,  wriggling  their  fat  bodies  and 
wagging  their  undeveloped  tails.  You 
350 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

want  to  hug  them.  When  Amabel  had 
secured  one  we  took  him,  by  a  rope  and 
some  pulling,  up  to  our  room,  where 
we  did  hug  him,  before  leading  him  to 
the  Gonzagas. 

It  was  rather  hard  work,  leading  him 
away  from  his  mother  and  his  brethren. 
Several  times  he  lay  down  on  his 
belly  and  required  to  be  hauled  instead 
of  being  led,  emitting  dismal,  remon 
strating  cries  during  the  process. 

When  we  were  beyond  the  hill  and 
halfway  along  the  path  to  Pedro's  we 
sat  down  exhausted.  The  instant  we 
ceased  hauling,  the  puppy  sprang  upon 
us  with  such  thankful  joy  that  con 
science  smote  us.  He  seemed  to  think 
that  we  had  relented,  and  would  pres 
ently  take  him  back  to  his  birthplace. 

It  was  here  that  we  were  joined  by 
Mr.  Riddle,  who  took  the  animal  up  in 
his  arms  and  carried  him  to  his  des 
tination.  The  little  Gonzaga  girl  was 
so  overcome  with  joy  at  the  thought 
that  the  dog  was  hers  that  she  almost 
35i 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

strangled  it  in  her  embraces.  She 
instantly  named  it  Trooper,  evidently 
having  that  name  in  her  mind  "against 
the  time"  when  she  might  need  it. 

Trooper  cried  all  the  first  night,  and 
was  at  last  taken  into  Sarah  Ramsey's 
bed,  but  refused  to  be  comforted  until 
in  the  middle  of  the  next  forenoon,  when 
he  suddenly  ceased  his  moans  and  has 
been  happy  ever  since.  And  Sarah 
Ramsey,  according  to  her  mother, 
"jest  worships  that  dog.  There  ain't 
nothin'  too  good  for  him."  The 
woman  sometimes  wonders  whether  so 
much  fish  will  agree  with  him.  She 
says  that  when  fish  does  agree  with  a 
person  it  agrees  better  than  anything 

she  ever  knew;  but  if  it  does  not 

Here  she  left  a  blank  in  her  speech, 
and  our  imagination  was  stimulated  as 
to  the  fate  of  a  being  with  whom  fish 
didn't  agree,  but  who  had  partaken  of 
it. 

"As  for  me,"  said  Mrs.  Gonzaga,  in 
her  pleasant  drawl,  "I'm  one  that  has 
352 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

all  kinds  of  sea  victuals  set  well  on  my 
stomach.  If  I  wa'n't,  I  d'know  what  I 
should  have  done,  livin'  on  the  cape. 
But  there  never  was  nobody  equal  to 
Pedro  for  cookin'  fish.  You'd  ought 
to  eat  some  of  his  broiled  cod — ' ' 

"That's  so,"  with  unction  from  the 
cabin. 

"Now,  cod's  a  real  common  thing 
down  here,  but  somehow  Pedro '11  make 
it  taste — well,  I  wish  you'd  come  out 
here  'n'  try  it  some  day — and  a  chow 
der.  Yes,  sea  victuals  seem  to  be  just 
the  thing  for  me.  And  then  to  be  a 
settin'  here  and  be  able  to  see  all  that 
glory" — sweeping  her  hand  toward  the 
stretch  of  desert  about  her — "to  see  it 
with  the^east  rain  slantin'  down  on  it, 
or  all  wrapped  up  in  fog,  and  layin' 
still  and  listenin'  to  the  waves  that 
pound  out  there  on  the  beach;  'n'  then 
to  see  the  sun  when  it  first  touches  the 
bushes — but  I  do  feel  to  wish  that  they 
hadn't  put  up  that  water  tank  out 
there ;  it  hinders  my  view  of  the  sand 
353 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

in  that  direction.  Don't  I  hear  some 
body  out  in  the  bushes  there?" 

This  question  was  asked  suddenly, 
and  the  speaker  leaned  forward  to  peer 
through  the  doorway. 

There  was  a  step,  and  then  I  heard  a 
little  clash,  as  of  metal  on  metal,  and 
I  instantly  knew  that  Miss  Langthorne 
was  approaching,  and  that  the  trophies 
at  her  belt  were  smiting  each  other. 

"Shut  this  door!"  called  out  Albert 
peremptorily,  and  his  sister  obeyed, 
although  the  action  seemed  like  fasten 
ing  her  brother  in  a  box. 

Miss  Langthorne  came  tripping  in. 
She  had  brought  her  friend  Sue  with 
her.  She  had  also  brought  an  offering 
of  fruit  for  Albert.  She  said  effusively 
that  she  had  heard  he  had  severed  three 
arteries — that  the  sand  out  there  was 
soaked  in  blood — that  only  a  miraculous 
chance  had  saved  his  life — and  was  he 
really  going  to  live,  Miss  Waldo? 

We  rose  to  go.  We  left  Miss  Lang 
thorne  and  her  friend  listening  to  the 
354 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

first  part  of  the  narrative  concerning 
Mrs.  Gonzaga's  "case";  so  we  thought 
that  we  should  not  be  followed. 

But  presently  Miss  Langthorne  came 
hurrying  up  to  us. 

"Oh,  don't  go  so  fast,"  she  ex 
claimed;  "I'm  dying  to  talk  to  you." 
She  took  Amabel's  arm.  The  two 
went  on  and  I  followed  with  Miss  Cum- 
mings,  who  didn't  attempt  to  make  any 
remark.  So  I  heard  every  word  of  the 
conversation  in  front  of  us. 

"I've  been  just  dying  to  see  you," 
repeated  Lily. 

"Have  you?" 

"Yes;  you  know  I've  something  to 
tell  you.  I  know  you'll  be  interested. 
You've  always  seemed  so  interested 
in  him,  anyway." 

Here  an  impressive  pause.  Amabel 
turned  and  looked  at  her  companion. 

"Yes,"  resumed  Miss  Langthorne, 
"but,  of  course,  you  couldn't  help 
being  interested  in  him.  I  tell  him" 
— with  a  laugh — "that  the  only  fault  I 

355 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

find  with  him  is  that  the  women  all  like 
him.  Do  you  think,  Miss  Waldo,  that 
you  could  be  happy  with  a  man  that 
all  the  women  were  fond  of?" 

"It  would  depend,"  said  Amabel, 
"on  whether  he  was  fond  of  all  the 
women." 

Miss  Lily  laughed  and  her  trophies 
clashed. 

"Oh,  how  bright  you  are!  I  don't 
wonder  the  men  keep  away  from  you; 
you're  too  bright." 

There  was  no  reply  to  this. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  popper 
'11  say.  I've  been  telling  Sue  that  I 
haven't  an  idea  what  popper  '11  say. 
I'm  going  to  write  to  him  as  soon  as  I 
get  my  courage  screwed  up. ' ' 

Miss  Langthorne's  face  was  turned 
so  that  I  saw  its  profile — a  fair  face 
with  charming  lines. 

"Perhaps  you  ought  to  have  written 
to  him  before, ' '  suggested  Amabel. 

"Do  you  think  so?  Oh,  do  you  really 
think  so?  But  then  if  I  had,  I  could 
356 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

only  have  said  that  I  was  flirting  with 
Tom.  It  wouldn't  have  been  worth 
while  to  write  just  that,  now,  would  it, 
Miss  Waldo?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  it  would." 

"That's  just  what  Sue  said;  she  said 
it  would  be  silly  to  write  to  popper  that 
I  was  flirting  with  Tom.  But  now, 
well,  now  I  suppose  I  must  write. 
Did  you  ever  see  such  a  forward  thing 
as  that  waiter  girl  at  our  table?" 

This  question  was  snapped  out  with 
great  suddenness. 

"Delcina?" 

"Yes;  ridiculous  name !" 

"I  don't  think  she  is  forward  at  all; 
I  think  she  is  lovely."  Amabel 
replied  with  some  heat.  Miss  Lang- 
thorne  burst  out  laughing.  Then  she 
said  they  were  going  out  rowing,  and 
she  had  only  time  to  get  on  her  yacht 
ing  suit,  and  she  hastened  away. 

When  the  two  had  gone  round  the 
hill  and  out  of  sight,  Amabel  turned  to 
me  and  said: 

357 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"Well?"  and  I  answered,  "Well?" 

"She  is  going  to  be  his  conscience," 
said  Amabel,  "and  I'm  out  of  a  posi 
tion;  for  he'll  scarcely  need  two  con 
sciences." 

"You  mean  three;  you  forget  me," 
I  responded. 

"And  he's  going  to  pass  his  life  with 
that  creature!" 

"Yes;  ain't  it  funny?" 

We  both  tried  to  laugh,  and  gave  up 
the  attempt. 

"It  isn't  that  I'm  in  love  with  him 
myself,"  said  Amabel. 

"Nor  that  I  am,"  said  I. 

"But  I  hate  to  see  his  future  ruined." 

"So  do  I." 

"I  suppose  Albert  has  been  right." 

"Yes.  It's  dreadful  to  think  he  has 
been  right." 

We  went  ploughing  sorrowfully 
through  the  sand.  When  we  reached 
the  hotel  we  had  our  horses  saddled  and 
we  rode  out  to  the  dunes.  On  the 
•piazza,  as  we  mounted  were  Miss  Lang- 
358 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

thorne  in  her  sailor  hat  and  Mr.  Dunn 
in  his  white  duck. 

They  maintained  supernaturally 
solemn  faces ;  but  did  we  hear  a  giggle 
as  we  passed  down  the  lane? 

It  was  the  next  day  that  that  letter 
came  from  Amabel's  father.  This 
letter  commanded  Albert  to  come 
home  the  moment  he  was  able  to  be 
moved.  The  writer  evidently  had  no 
high  idea  of  Cape  Cod  medical  skill. 
Mr.  Waldo  seemed  impressed  with  tbe 
idea  that  Albert  would  be  lame  if  he 
didn't  go  home  as  soon  as  possible. 

Consternation  reigned  among  us. 
Albert  declared  that  he  wasn't  going 
to  be  lame;  he  even  averred  that  his 
leg  would  be  stronger  than  it  had  been 
before  it  was  cut.  In  fact,  the  cut 
would  eventually  be  of  benefit.  He 
announced  his  intention  of  writing  his 
father  to  that  effect,  but  when  the  6 
o'clock  afternoon  train  came  in  Mr. 
Waldo  himself  appeared.  He  explained 
that  he  could  not  rest  until  he  saw  for 
359 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

himself  just  what  had  happened  to 
his  son.  He  went  away  the  next 
morning,  but  he  reiterated  his  com 
mands  for  Albert  to  return.  He  said 
that  if  Amabel  wished  to  stay  any 
longer  in  such  a  God-forsaken,  fish- 
smelling  place,  she  was  welcome  to  do 
so;  but  he  was  going  to  have  Albert 
come  home,  so  that  the  next  time  he 
stuck  that  dirk  into  himself  he,  his 
father,  might  be  near. 

Albert  groaned  and  scolded  as  he  lay 
in  his  bunk. 

"The  governor  must  have  been 
having  a  touch  of  liver, ' '  said  the  boy. 
"He's  always  a  regular  tiger  when  he 
has  a  liver.  Why,  we'd  only  just  got 
to  going  down  here!  We  haven't 
been  to  Highland  Light  yet !  We  were 
saving  that  up,  you  know. ' ' 

It  transpired  that  Mr.  Waldo  did  not 
change  his  mind. 

During  the  days  that  followed, 
Amabel  and  I  rode  a  good  deal,  and  we 
did  not  see  much  of  Mr.  Riddle;  indeed, 
360 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

we  kept  away  from  the  hotel,  save  at 
meal  times  and  when  we  were  asleep. 

Mr.  Riddle  informed  us  that  he  was 
learning  a  new  Part,  and  he  was  off  on 
the  dunes  much  of  the  time.  When  he 
was  with  us,  however,  he  was  precisely 
the  same  as  to  tender  impressiveness. 
Amabel  asserted  that  lie  could  not  give 
Miss  Langthorne  any  more  expressive 
glances. 

Thus  it  happened  that  my  friend  and 
I  went  by  ourselves  along  the  neck  of 
land  to  Highland  Light.  We  rode  over 
unmolested ;  there  were  not  many  peo 
ple  to  be  interested  in  us ;  or  perhaps 
the  fame  of  Amabel's  reformation  had 
spread  abroad  and  dissipated  itself. 
Probably  the  inhabitants  had  said  to 
each  other,  "It  is  that  woman  re 
former,"  and  ceased  to  be  startled. 

We  went  back  to  the  Gonzaga  house 
hold  and  told  Albert  of  the  glories  of 
the  ocean  that  was  still  eating  into  the 
land  at  Highland  Light.  We  had 
stood  on  the  verge  and  looked  shud- 
361 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

deringly  down  at  a  sea  swollen  with  the 
full  tide  and  with  a  blustering  east 
wind.  The  gray  welter  of  waters 
stretched  sullenly  away  to  Europe. 
The  wind  blew  angrily  over  us.  One 
sail  in  sight  came  slanting  toward  the 
land. 

So,  after  all,  it  was  Albert's  dirk  that 
cut  short  our  stay  in  Provincetown. 
Amabel  and  I  felt  that  it  would  not  be 
the  same  thing  to  remain  after  an 
accident  had  happened  to  one  of  our 
party,  and  time  proved  that  Mr. 
Waldo  was  right  in  thinking  that 
Albert's  leg  would  be  weak  for  a  great 
while. 

We  went  back  prosaically  by  boat  to 
Boston.  Our  two  horses  were  on 
board ;  we  heard  them  whinnying  and 
pawing.  We  liked  to  imagine  that 
they  were  grieving  that  they  were 
leaving  the  Cape. 

Mr.  Riddle  went  down  to  the  wharf 
with  us.  He  found  us  seats  in  a  pleas 
ant  spot.  It  was  almost  time  for  the 
362 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

boat  to  start.     He  leaned  over  us.     An 
access  of  color  came  to  his  face. 

"I've  been  wishing  to  ask  for  your 
congratulations,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  yes,"  responded  Amabel.  And 
then  she  stopped.  Congratulations 
choked  her. 

"  I'  m  the  happiest  man  in  the  world, ' ' 
said  Mr.  Riddle ;  and  he  really  looked 
his  words. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Amabel  again. 

"If  I  were  only  worthy  of  her! — the 
sweetest  nature  —  sincere  —  truthful  — 
charming!" 

This  was  dreadful.  Amabel  was 
speechless.  I  spoke  up  bravely. 

"We  hope  you'll  be  happy,"  I  said. 

"Happy!  I  can't  help  being  happy! 
She  was  coming  down  with  me  to  see 
you  off,  but  was  detained.  Oh,  there 
she  is  now!" 

He  caught  off  his  hat,  his  face 
radiant. 

"All  ashore!  All  ashore!"  cried  a 
rough  voice. 

363 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

Two  men  laid  hold  of  the  gangway 
plank. 

Mr.  Riddle  started. 

"Why,  it's  Delcina!"  we  cried. 

"Of  course.     Who  else?" 

Mr.  Riddle  had  just  time  to  dash 
across  to  the  wharf. 

Delcina  smiled  and  waved  her  hand 
kerchief.  Mr.  Riddle  was  standing  by 
her.  The  boat  had  left  the  wharf. 

"It's  Delcina!"  I  cried  again. 

"Of  course,"  said  Albert,  who  was 
sitting  near  us,  with  his  crutches  beside 
him.  "Didn't  you  know  that?" 

"No;  nor  you  either." 

"I  did;  weeks  ago.  I  ain't  such  a 
blind  bat  as  some  folks. ' ' 

"But  Lily  Langthorne  called  him 
Tom,  and  she  the  same  as  told  us  that 
she  was  going  to  marry  him. ' ' 

"Did  she?  She  was  getting  a  rise 
out  of  you.  Besides,  that  .little  toad 
Dunn's  name  is  Tom." 

"Is  she  engaged  to  Dunn?" 

"Sure's  a  gun — which  is  poetry." 
364 


SAND    'N'    BUSHES 

"You  needn't  tell  us  you've  observed 
all  this,  Albert  Waldo, ' '  said  his  sister. 

"No,  I  ain't,  so  to  speak,  observed 
it  all.  But  you  started  on  the  wrong 
tack.  And  Riddle  has  told  me  'Some 
things.  Can't  he  fool  you  women, 
though?" 

Albert  laughed  with  much  gusto. 
"You  thought  Delcina  cared  for  Dunn. ' ' 

We  were  all  watching  Mr.  Riddle 
and  Delcina  as  they  stood  on  the 
receding  wharf. 

"Well,"  said  Amabel  at  last,  "I 
would  much  prefer  that  Delcina  should 
be  Mr.  Riddle's  conscience — and  his 
wife — than  that  girl.  I'm  very  fond 
of  him.  But  I  could  be  sorry,  even  for 
Lilian  Langthorne,  when  I  think  of 
Mr.  Dunn." 

"Oh,  you  needn't  be,"  returned 
Albert.  "Tom  Dunn  has  a  lot  of 
money — he'll  get  her  more  gimcracks 
to  wear  at  her  belt." 

THE    END 


PRINTED  BY  R.  R.  DONNELLEY 
AND  SONS  COMPANY  AT  THE 
LAKESIDE  PRESS,  CHICAGO,  ILL. 


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GIONAL  LIBRARY  FAC'in, 


